The Novak Brothers
by Miscar
Summary: 'And his trench coat, he reminds me of a superhero in it. He's Thor, burdened with the vulnerability of Iron Man.' Castiel opens the door one day to find a young, long haired boy, asking for his brother, Gabriel. This is the first Cas hears of the winchester brothers, and soon his life will be changed forever by one in particular... Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**Castiel's POV**

"Ruby, I'm so sorry, but I can't"

"Just trust me, Castiel."

"It's not that, please Rubes" I gently push her shoulders away from me. She keeps trying though, trying to kiss me when I really can't.

"Why then?" she mutters against my lips, smiling.

"I... just... um," I stumble on my words, racking my brain for some sort of excuse before my cheeks spontaneously combust. "You see- I have a girlfriend!" I blurt out.

Ruby raises her eyes to mine, then looks away as soon as they meet. She glances to the side, gently climbing off my lap, and I sigh inwardly with the relief of the loss of that uncomfortable weight, but then I just get angry at myself for getting any amount of joy out of someone else's pain. After all, this is all my fault.

She's muttering something to herself and I strain to overhear. "I'm so stupid, so so stupid. You idiot, Ruby. Why would he ever fall for you." The murmurs are saying, and they get to me, so much, because she's blaming herself - and _it's my fault_. I look up from the floor, which I've been staring at in an attempt to not look her in the eyes, only to see her chuckling. For a small moment I think it's fine, that she didn't really care and trying to get with me was just a prank, or a dare, or something that wouldn't make any of this matter. But then I look closer, and see her shaking her head, and I recognise those laughs. It's not out of humour… it's self loathing. You screw something up, and you laugh at yourself, your idiocy, because it's all you can do. I've been there.

I'm not sure I've ever felt as guilty as I did right then in years. There's so much hurt in all of her actions, because she's a gorgeous girl, and I'm a lucky guy, and the thought of us _not_ hitting it off tonight would physically shock pretty much anyone over the age of 17.

"I'm sorry-" I begin before she cuts me off.

"This girl got a name?" She asked suddenly, perhaps wondering if its someone from our school, if it's someone she can blame. But I'm burdened with the knowledge that Ruby just wants to know so that she can compare herself to her. Not that 'her' is even more than a figure in my mind.

Panicking, I skim my eyes over her bedroom, which, except for the radio quietly playing in the background, is silent. I catch my eye on a cold mug of coffee, and in a moment of distress, I tell her, "Mug".

Her shoulders collapse and she breathes out, I realise she was subconsciously holding her breath in wait for the answer. Evidently, she no longer believes in the existence of my mysterious, and yes, imaginary, girlfriend. Almost sympathetically she says, "Your girlfriend is called mug?"

"What?! No no no," I try to redeem myself. "Marg, that's what I call her, it's short for Margaret." I mentally high-five myself. I really am pathetic. Heck, I'm legally an adult, and I'm making up girlfriends based on beverages.

In a fraction of a second, her whole face has dropped all over again, her posture shrinking and her head bowing. Her hands hang by her side, limp with a loss of purpose. So of course that sense of guilt, the annoyance at myself, and the torment of knowing what I've done to her succumbs me. I wish there were something I could do. Really. But I don't like her in that way, and I never will, even if I wanted too. Sometimes I wish I could.

That evening I'm sitting on my bed, re-watching the empire strikes back, (because why the hell not?) when there's a knock at the door. I realise Gabriel should have been home around 5 minutes ago; he must have forgotten his keys, the imbecile. I murmur something to myself about little brothers as I reluctantly make my way to the door.

"Oh, hi." says a boy who's most definitely not my brother. He looks about the same age as Gabe though, with long brown hair and a sheepish smile. "Is Gabriel there?"

"No, sorry. He should be back any time now though." I say, putting on the politest voice I can muster up for the stranger at my doorstep. Just as I'm about to invite him inside, and ask who he is, he starts speaking again.

"Um, my bad, it's just he said he would be home around this time. Thing is, I decided to come a little earlier because I really couldn't wait to see hi-" The boy covers his mouth, as if just realising what he's said.

I'm about to reply to his comment, suddenly massively intrigued by the wavy haired kid, who's name I don't even know yet, when Gabriel, without warning, slams through the old wooden gate and brings an abrupt ending to our conversation.

"Heyyyy Cassie." he grins at me slyly as I scowl at his most recent nickname for me. Then, glancing at the youngster to his right (and did I see his cheeks turn a bit red? no, I must be imagining it) he says to me, "I see you've met my… friend, Sam. He moved here a few weeks ago with his brother."

"Nice to meet you, Sam" I say with a nod, still keeping as adult as possible whilst my mind buzzes with questions and ideas.

"You too..." he pulls a questioning look.

"Castiel" I say.

"Nice to meet you too, Castiel." He says, flashing another toothy grin - and this time I swear I see Gabe's cheeks light up. I am definitely confronting him about this later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Castiel's POV**

It's 1am when I hear Gabe trying to discreetly open the front door.

Ever since dad went missing and mum got a second job (a night shift, of course) to 'support the family', Gabriel and I have had the house to ourselves pretty much 24/7. Even our other siblings packed up and left as soon as they were old enough, so the two of us really were on our own. Because of this, there was nothing stopping me from yelling at him. "Gabe, get up here right now and explain your self!"

I get up and open my bedroom door just in time to see his face contort with anxiety. Slowly, he walks up the stairs and I don't dare to speak until he's standing right in front of me.

"So?" I ask him. "Care to say where you've been all this time? Oh, and I'd also like a little more information on this… Sam." I'm trying to sound serious but the secret that could exist between Gabriel his rather tall 'friend' makes me smirk over the last few words.

To my disappointment, Gabe stays soundless, and I'm conscience-stricken as he starts to look worried. Really worried. "Gabe?" I ask quietly. "Gabe, what's wrong?"

"Please don't tell mum," he looks up at me and I see a single tear roll down his face. "I- please Castiel." and suddenly he's crying.

I take my little brother into my arms as he puts his head on my shoulder and I can feel his whole body shake with the sobs. We stay there for a minute, until he takes his head away, his face red and tear streaked, and it kills me that I still don't know why.

"Gabriel," I look into his eyes gently. "You know you can trust me, right?" for a moment I remember Ruby saying those same words to me earlier today, and I close my eyes for a second to clear my mind. I refuse to feel any more pain over something I can't change.

"Yes." Comes his now timid and frankly adorable voice as he nods weakly.

"Please, tell me what's up. I just want to help you."

In a matter of seconds not only his posture, but his entire expression changes. His hands curl into heavy fists and a menacing snarl drags itself onto his no-longer innocent face.

He flashes he head up at me in this outburst anger and spits at me, "What does help exactly mean? That you think you can _change_ me? _You can't_, Nobody can. I'm a sin, a freak of nature. I'm gay, Castiel. I'm fucking gay and I don't want one single assbutt thinking they can snap their fingers and change that about me! I'm going to hell for it, I know I am, but what can I do? This demon that mum'll say is inside me isn't letting go. And you wanna know the worst part of it? I like it. I enjoy it. And you're mad if you think I don't hate myself for it."

His eyes are wet again and I can see the rage that fills my brother. _I'm so sorry_, I try to tell him. How could I ever let him think that's what I thought about him? About us? _I'm so sorry,_ I try to say again, but now I'm the one who's crying. Placing my hands against his cheeks, I bend down until our heads are exactly level.

"I love you, Gabe. You are the greatest brother I could ever have, and I do not give one single shit about your sexuality." His eyes dart away for a moment.

"Really?" he asks.

"Really." I say.

We talk until 3am. I don't tell him about me, all I want is to help him, help him get through all the madness people will throw at those like us. I learn more about this Sam character.

His full name is Sam Winchester. First things first, he's apparently insanely clever - though I don't know whether this is the fact's talking or the hormones. The reason his hair is so hilarious (Gabe started off saying 'hot', but he got as far as 'ho-' before he went bright red and pretended he's been saying 'hilarious') is because his older brother, Dean, cuts it for him.

This confused me slightly, and Gabriel went on to tell me that Sam's mum died when he was a baby. Apparently ever since then, his dad has been an alcoholic, moving Sam and Dean from place to place for no apparent reason. The only real person in Sam Winchester's life is his older brother, he's the one to care for him, cook his meals and teach him the ways of life. It physically pained me how similar this Dean and I were: one parent gone forever, the other only a shadow in our lives, and a little brother whom we cared the world for. Someone for whom it seemed we would give up everything. The reason it pained me so much, is because no one should have to experience what I'm going through.

Eventually, I propose an idea. After I insist I get to know the boy – and the guardian of the boy (maybe I could learn a few things from this Dean character?) – who stole my brother's heart, I say that it is only fair we invite them round. Dean knows about Sam apparently, has done for a while. After a quick phone call the next day, it's been arranged.

The Winchesters are coming for dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

**Dean's POV**

"C'mon, Dean! Can't we just leave already?"

"Sam we don't need to be there for another half hour, and it will take us 10 minutes to drive there. At least let me get changed. I'm fed up of the results of you turning up to this boy's house early."

"Hey it's not my fault they invited us round! I, as a matter of fact, am looking forward to it… Oh, and I almost forgot," Sam smirks and nudges me with his elbow. "He's got an older brother." Oh my lord, did he just? He just winked at me.

I let out a strangled moan, "bitch." I say under my breath.

"Jerk." Says Sam and he is literally wiggling his eyebrows. There's no way I'm going to make it through this evening.

"OHHH, OHH, WE'LL MAKE IT I SWEEAAR, OHHH, OHH, LIIIVING ON A PRAAAYER!" Sam and I belt out Bon Jovi as we make our way to Gabriel's house. Sam starts drumming on the dashboard of dad's old impala when I give him a look of pure evil and tell him that "No-one smacks my baby." He laughs, but I notice how tense he's gotten all of a sudden.

"Hey, what's up Sammy?" God, I always call him that when I worry about him. I don't even realise I'm doing it anymore.

"Please don't screw this up for me Dean" I look at him with confusion, submerged with the feeling I've done something wrong, again. "Aghh I'm sorry, that came wrong." He tries again. "I mean, damn this sounds stupid now, but don't scare 'em off." He chuckles.

"Try and not be a pretentious dick, I get it." I smile.

"Hey, just make an attempt to get them to like us, for me?" I swear a piece of my heart dies when he looks up at me with those puppy dog eyes. I find myself subconsciously nodding at him. "Oh, and do not put me and Gabe in awkward situations."

Despite myself, I laugh with sympathy and a hint of foreshadowing, "Can't guarantee anything, little brother."

This time I'm the one who's winking.

Just as Wanted Dead or Alive starts playing I find myself pulling into the Novak's driveway.

"You sure this is the right address?" I ask my little brother anxiously. Sam being Sam, rolls his eyes at me.

"Yes."

"Then get out my car and ring the fricking doorbell you 14 year giant." Sam stares at me pathetically but gets out the car.

We're standing outside the door when Sam suddenly turns to me. "Wait, Dean… do I look okay?" in desperation to lighten the mood and get this over with, I strike a diva pose.

Then, looking Sam up and down I say, "Darling, you look fabulous."

To my delight, Sam grins at me, and a few seconds later, Gabriel and Castiel open the door.

Castiel. My, oh my, praise the heavens for this fallen angel. The older boy standing in front of me is stunning. He's in a navy blue shirt, with a burgundy hoodie shrugged on top. The sleeves are rolled up, showing off his gorgeous arms, wait, what? Pull yourself together Dean, Godammit. What am I even thinking? But wow he looks amazing. Those black jeans, clinging in all the right places. Stop it! You're at your brother's boyfriend's house. Pull your shit together and at least try to socialise.

I bring my head away from Castiel's body, and just when I'm about to make conversation, I find myself lost in his eyes. They're blue. So blue. Their colour compares to nothing else and I find myself lost in them, feeling a need to understand them, know their secrets… When did I get sosappy. But they're glorious. Now I'm taking in features besides his eyes, those cheekbones so elegantly positioned, yet still strikingly handsome; eyebrows furrowed in an adorable confusion, which I'm too lost in to realise I've caused; messy, dark brown hair that looks like he just got out of bed, and lips, lips that- I should really stop now. I've looked the Novak up and down, from head to toe, side to side, left to right… and I still feel as if I could stare at him forever.

"Oi, Dean!" I suddenly snap out of it to find Sam waving his hand in my face.

"Mmm yeah huh what sorry?" Shit. Shit shit shit. I imagine smacking myself on the head repeatedly.

Sam merely sighs at me, and then, turning to his boyfriend, his whole face lights up again. "This is Gabriel."

He's so happy. He's so happy that a thrill of joy pulls my mouth into a grin that I barely knew I had in me. It elates me to see Sammy in such a great mood. In that moment I decide that I will do everything I can to not ruin this seemingly bliss evening for him.

A few hours later we've finished eating, and Sam and Gabriel have gone off to 'hang out', whatever that involves. I had to stop myself from gazing at Castiel several times throughout the meal. One time when I turned my head to take him in all over again, I found that his eyes were already on me, I had to duck my head down to hide the colour of my cheeks.

Now I'm sitting across the table from him, discussing the easiest thing that comes to mind: school.

"So," I begin, "you go to Newmark High School?"

"Mm hm" replies Castiel. "What about you, Dean?" There's something amazing about the way he says my name, different then I've ever heard it before, I can deny it all I want, but somehow it makes me feel different… special. "Gabe says you moved here a few weeks ago, but I haven't seen you around."

"Yeah," I sigh. "Dad messed the school stuff up again, got too drunk to remember to sign a bunch of crap, so I've been spending the last few weeks talking to people to try and sort it out. Good news is we should start next week."

Castiel smiles at me sadly. "Parents, eh?"

"Wait," I suddenly think. "If we haven't started school yet then how did Sam and Gabriel meet?" He looks concerned for a moment then lets out a boyish laugh.

"Social media? Book club? Who knows?" I can't help but laugh with him, there's something about the way he does it that just makes me feel warm inside. "Anyway, I get you." Castiel says. "It must be kind of frustrating moving so often?"

"You don't know the half of it," I chortle. "I can't remember a single school I even adjusted to enough that I would stop getting lost.

Castiel looks down into his mug shyly, and a hint of a smile plays on his frankly beautiful face. "Maybe I'll show you around." He says.


	4. Chapter 4

**Castiels' POV**

I'm sitting on a bench outside of school talking to Charlie, but I have no idea what she's saying; behind her head, about 50 meters away, Dean Winchester is climbing out of a car.

It's frankly amazing what this one guy can do to me. I mean, it's just a crush, barely a crush even… probably just me pawing of how distinguished each line of his face is, and the way his green eyes shine like the brightest emerald, or how his muscles tensed and flexed when reaching for the potatoes. It's definitely not a crush.

Dean wraps his arm protectively around Sam. I smile every time I think of his younger brother and the effect he has on Gabriel.

"Cas I can visibly see that you're not listening you now," I barely even acknowledge Charlie's presence.

"Mm hmm," I mumble back. Dean's walking up on his way to the school gate, then, in the process of turning his head to his right to look at Sam, he spots me.

"Ugh Cas what are you staring at?" Charlie says and she flips her own head around, red curls following suit, just as Dean gives me a sideways grin and waves. I find myself grinning back at him, and right when I'm about to return the wave, Charlie suddenly pins her elbows on my knees. She's leaning into my face and her pupils are burning into my eyes as she scans them, trying to read my emotions like a computer.

"Tell. Me. Everything."

After a brief explanation of the situation between Sam and Gabe, I find that Dean (Sam no longer at his side) has strolled over to us.

"Hey Castiel," Dean smirks, but I can sense he's trying to cover up nerves. It is his first day of school though, so I suppose he has a right.

"Um, hi." I reply, eager to end the conversation. I should never have offered to show him round, I realise now, albeit too late. I don't think I can deal with getting close to him, I'll screw it up, screw something up, like I always do. Or he'll get bored of me. That's a common one too.

"And who might this fine lady be?" Dean asks with a gesture towards Charlie and raised eyebrows.

"Oh right," I say, feeling a little guilty now after the amount of times I've ignored her this morning. "This is my best friend, Charlie." I dislike the title 'best friend' but I use it anyway for lack of a better one.

"I'm Dean, co-best friend of Castiel."

"We only just met." I interject, but he merely smiles and the dimples that pop up eat me inside out.

He snaps back to face me. "So, what about that tour, eh?" He asks. Oh shit.

"About that-"I begin but the school bell cuts me off. 'Saved by the bell.' Has a saying ever been more accurate? "I've got, uh, something I have to do." I shout as I start to run to class. "But I'll talk to you later!" Why the hell did I have to add that last bit in, I cringe as I find my way to English.

I wander into class and sit down, opening my book as Miss Clare stands up and starts writing the title of today's lesson on the board.

Around 10 minutes later, the classroom door opens, and Dean walks in. He explains quietly to Miss that he's new, this is his class, and he got lost in the corridors… I'm in the same class as the person I have the upmost intention of avoiding. Shit. After a quick examination of the room, I gather that the only free seat is next to me. Double shit. Miss Clare says something I can't understand, and points gingerly to the seat next to me. Dean, acknowledging my presence, subconsciously ducks his head and bites his lip. I don't even notice myself breathing out heavily, I mean… wow. Just wow.

Dean makes eye contact with me as he walks over and slips easily into the empty chair.

"Hey there, Cas."

"Cas?" I frown at him. It's not because I don't like the nickname, it's just, if he's given me one already, he must think that some sort of friendship is going to come from this. But it's not. And I wont let it.

"Yeah, Cas." He says it again and I fall in love with the way it rolls off his tongue. He brings richness, an importance, to my name, and I find myself not wanting him to stop calling me it.

I notice how hot my cheeks have gotten, and I curse to myself. Shaking off my coat off I mutter something about it being hot in here. But oh well, at least he's forgotten about that tour.

Every so often throughout English, Dean whispers some joke or sassy comment about the lesson, and at one point (despite my many stressful attempts to shut him up) he says something which leaves me biting back laughter.

"Do we have a problem there, Mister Novak?" Miss Clare raises her eyebrows.

I bow my head, the smile quickly wiped from my face. "No Miss, sorry Miss."

"I should hope not. Disturb my class again and that's a half hour detention." Damn it.

"Sorry," Dean mouths. I try to act cool but angry, still attempting to distance myself from the Winchester. I shrug my shoulders, trying to hide how effected I was by the teacher's remark and the 3 seconds in which every pupil in the room was staring at me. He smiles then, one side of his mouth going up before the next. For such an evidently hard guy, dressing in a brown leather jacket, a black long-sleeved shirt and baggy jeans that hang perfectly on his hips, he can be hella adorable. Not, that that means anything.

**Dean's POV**

There's no explanation for the way I feel about Cas. I've never been like this with anyone before. I just feel a need to be with him, let his cuteness envelope me as he muffles laughs at my pathetic jokes. He's trying to avoid me though, I can tell it. It doesn't surprise me that I'm coming on too fast, scaring him off. Usually girls swarm me though, even some guys did at that school a year or two back where I accidently came out. But anyway, I know I have looks on my side. That sounds bigheaded, it probably is, however I see the way girls look at me, the populars' especially, always trying to get close to me. So why doesn't Cas look at me like that? And why do I want him to so badly? Every so often I give in to them, the populars', fed up of finding excuses. It's not fun. It never is. But I get so sick of the alternative.

I feel a pull towards Castiel though. I just love everything about him, the way he moves, his gravelly voice when he's telling me to shut up and his carefree but somewhat anguished voice he speaks with just after I've made him laugh. And his trench coat, he reminds me of a superhero in it. He's Thor, burdened with the vulnerability of Iron Man.

The problem I face at the moment: I barely know the guy. How can my stomach clench at the sight of this Novak whom I've only met twice? I have no idea, but it still happens. I think this why I'm making such an attempt to get close to him… I'm afraid of falling for a boy I hardly know. I just need him to give me a chance, for all I know he has some horrible hamartia, which would drive me away from him forever. I want to get close enough for him to tell me these things, or for me to discover them for myself. Why is he trying to hard to avoid me?

I can see him trying to ignore me, laughing at my jokes occasionally as if he's, for a moment, giving into his determined mission to avoid me. But when I find him in the corridors he sends my away, instructing me to go to lunch or telling me where my next class is.

I don't understand why every so often, he'll give me the biggest, most heart warming grin, and then react as if he was doing wrong by being happy, and try to take back that he ever enjoyed a moment of our time together.

Cas. I'm over-thinking everything because of him. I simply need answers. I simply need contentment… I need him to let me in.


	5. Chapter 5

**Dean's POV**

"Sam, get your ass out of bed! We have to leave for school in 20 minutes!"

That, technically, is a lie, but I've noticed Cas usually comes in 10 minutes early with Charlie and I really want to get to know her better. Maybe she'll help me get through to him.

I've been at school for just over a week now, I haven't made any progress on Cas, but I'm not giving up on him anytime soon. It's Tuesday, and I'm in 4 of his lessons today. I was up all night thinking about it, about how lucky I am to get to see Castiel for 4 whole hours. I only sit near him in two of those classes, but at least I can still look at him in the others. Watch as he doodles through History and stares intently through science. The way the world works fascinates him, it's as if he wants to know everything. I don't blame him, but I've always had an issue with concentration. I suppose I've never really found a reason to learn anyway, Sam and I move around so much that no school system can figure out the right stuff to teach us any more. I've learned about the First World War at least 5 times in the last year and a half.

We are, incidentally, learning about WW1 here too. Heck, I've been taught it so much I might even get a C.

Five minutes later and Sam still hasn't gotten up. I wander up to his room with the thought of Cas' dark blue eyes in my mind. I speculate whether he knows how gorgeous they are, and I'm imagining how he'd look in a matching blue tie when I open Sam's door to the gagging stench of teenage sweat.

"What died in here?" I cough.

"Probably my immune system." Whines Sam. How is that kid still an utter nerd even when he's ill?

Even so, I rush over and, just like mum used to do with me when I was sick, place the back of my hand on my baby brother's head. He's burning up; I can barely keep my hand on for more then a few seconds.

"Sammy," I say softly, and then I hurry to the bathroom to wet a flannel.

I come back in to his room, now accustomed to the awful smell, and place it gently on his forehead. Sam breathes out heavily and I tell him I'll call the school to let them know we won't be in.

As I'm walking towards the front room for the phone it hits me that I won't get to see Cas today. I shouldn't be thinking of myself at all in a time like this, I really shouldn't, but I'm gonna miss those eyes.

"Hello, this is the reception of Newmark High School how may I help you?" I pace the room slowly with the phone to my ear.

"Hi, I'm Dean Winchester. My little brother Sam is ill and I gotta look after him so I'm afraid neither of us will be in today."

"Sam Winchester, right?"

"Yeah," I confirm.

"Okay, there's no problem with him not coming in, but I'm afraid you'll have to." What?

"I'm sorry but I need to stay home to look after him."

"Surely your mother or father could take a day off work to care for him, Dean. Your education is of upmost importance." I grunt.

"You don't understand, my mum's dead and my dad's…" an alcoholic who doesn't give two shits about us and is probably somewhere miles away getting even more wasted. "…He's already gone to work, and he left his phone at home by accident, he does that sometimes."

I notice her get slightly uncomfortable at the mention of mum's death. She takes the option of ignoring my having said it, instead of apologizing for my situation. I hate it when people say sorry anyway. Like it's their fault or something. "Well why don't you phone his work?"

"He's a mechanic, running his own business. He's probably in the middle of the countryside fixing some old guy's truck." I fake a laugh.

"Hmm, well, okay. I'll let you off this time, just take good care of him, and if he's still unwell tomorrow I expect you to have something sorted." She sounds tired and stubborn, so I don't protest.

"Yes, yes of course thank you very much."

"We'll be seeing you tomorrow."

And then she hung up.

**Cas' POV**

Two emotions hit me when I see Dean's empty seat in history. Relief is there, definitely. I won't have to ignore him, keep telling him to leave me alone, saying it's because he's a pain rather then because I can't deal with a relationship, of the attention it will bring. I won't take those extra steps closer to having to tell him I like him, but I'll hurt him, and I don't want that. Relief… it's definitely there. And then there's the emptiness. The knowledge that I won't have his adorable snarky comments whispered to my ear, that I wont see the way his tight fitted shirt clings to his chest, that I won't see him. I can't bear my wanting to see him.

At lunch I bump into Ruby. I used to see her most days, but in an attempt to avoid Dean my eating schedule sort of changed.

"Hi," I say, giving her a small smile.

"Hi… look Cast-"

"Hey, hey it's ok you don't have to say anything." I take a breath in. "Maybe we could just pretend that that night… that it never happened?"

She look so sad, I don't want her to look sad.

"Friends?" she asks.

"Friends." I say.

It's lonely without Dean. I'm in a different section of the school, so I'm not in any of Charlie's classes, and I don't really have anyone else I hang out with. I realize now how much of my time he's taken up. It's not exactly like I used do much with those moments between lessons, I tended to just bring a book with me and spend most my time reading, but now the impact of his absence knocks me surprisingly hard.

I find myself wishing the day away, a voice in my head is begging for tomorrow to come sooner.

I get home and Gabriel looks a bit anxious.

"You alright?" I ask as I fix up a snack.

He bloats his cheeks, "Yeah I'm cool. Sam wasn't in school today though, I called his phone and Dean picked up. Apparently he's ill. It's kind of weird without him now, I've known him a month and only been at school with him for a week but he's changed so much for me." I can't help but think how that was the exact way I felt about Dean's lack of appearance.

I grin at my little brother. "You guys are so sweet," Gabriel glares at me and I sigh, still smiling though. "I'm sure he'll be in tomorrow, now go do homework or something. We're having pizza for dinner."

He beams at me and makes his way to his room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Dean's POV**

Sam fell ill on Tuesday and supposedly wasn't better until Thursday evening. I took an easy guess that he was faking being well again anyway and I was right. He was just missing Gabe, and was willing to go into school with a roaring headache and a temperature just to see him. As a result neither of us got an education on Friday, either. I had to pretend I'd caught the cold off of Sam to get out school to look after him, and it was worth it I suppose, but I really missed Cas. It was pointless denying it.

It's Saturday now, Sam's better, and I'm having a bad day.

I have no idea why, I just feel like crap and all I know is need to get out of the house. I should hit the gym, I know I should, it's what I usually do when I feel like this but that's not what I want to do today. I want to relax, but I don't want that feeling that I'm wasting my life. Wasting precious time that I could be spending getting some more money for my shipwreck of a family, or helping out Sammy with his homework.

I feel like I need to do something for me. I'm a selfish son of a bitch, I really am, but I just want, need, to feel happy. But how does one acquire happiness? God knows.

I think about my friends, I've gotten really close to Charlie recently. She's amazing, though she can be tiring sometimes, talking non-stop when I simply need a sofa and reassurance. She's kind of like the little sister I never wanted.

Then there's Sammy. It would be cool to do something with him, maybe re-watch an episode of Sherlock, the British show with the hot actor… what's his name? Benedict Cumberbatch. Yeah, that might be nice, but Sam's out with Gabriel somewhere. Good for him, I guess.

I know what I want. I want to hang out with Cas. I want to stare into those eyes and run my fingers through that matted hair. And most of all, I don't want him to stop me.

I barely even realise it when I'm driving to his house.

**Cas' POV**

The door knocks and I put down my copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix. I've been reading the series… again.

Gabriel's out with Sam, Mum isn't back until 10 this evening, and Charlie hasn't got a car - so at 11am, I have no idea who this person is that, just a minute ago, I heard pulling into my driveway.

I wander slowly downstairs towards the door, my brain still pondering who could be on the other side, and when I reach it I've given up on an answer. Something's probably up with the post, or suchlike.

I most definitely didn't expect this.

Dean Winchester, is standing at my door. He can't do this. He can't just come over to where I live and expect me to… I don't know. And then I remember Gabe and Sam, and that Dean is Sam's older brother, and just how could I have been stupid enough to think that Dean was coming over for me. But before I can say anything Dean's walking away, walking to his car, with his back turned to me.

"Dean?" I ask.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Cas this was stupid of me. I'm going, ok. You won't see me again. It's cool. I'm sorry." Dean says the words quietly and carries on rushing back to the impala. I cock my head to the side; I'm so confused. What was Dean doing here? Didn't he just come to see if Sam was round? Why does he look so panicked and… flushed.

"Dean, wait!" I shout to him, and he stops walking, but doesn't turn back around to face me. "Why are you here? Why are you sorry? What did you do wrong?" I want Dean to stay. Part of me wants it because I need an explanation to his visit, and the other, smaller part, secretly wants him to stay because I haven't seen him in four days and however much I deny it, I've missed him.

"Four days, Cas." He says, as if reading my mind. "Why does it feel so long?" his voice is still muffled, and he's slowly turning around to face me. He still won't look me in the eyes though.

"I don't- what do you mean, Dean?"

"I feel like crap, alright? I woke up this morning and I didn't know what to do with myself, all I could think of was you. I just wanted to be near you Cas. I've missed you."

I open my mouth, but I have nothing to say.

"I'm sorry Cas." He looks me in the eyes this time. "I should leave." It was more of a question then a statement. Nevertheless, I don't say anything, still in shock. But he should leave, he definitely should, He's gotten too close to me recently. Way too close. He turns away yet again and I tell myself that that's the right thing, that he'd be doing both of us a favour by leaving, by taking back everything that he just said. But that's not what comes out of my mouth.

"Stay," I whisper, "Please."


	7. Chapter 7

**Cas' POV**

Dammit, he's cute when he's shy. I still can't believe I've brought Dean in, what do I expect to come of this? What does he? But I still did it, and now there's no going back.

He stands slightly awkwardly in my narrow hallway, the door closed behind him. We had a bit of a scene outside, but now that we're in the house everything suddenly feels very formal and uncomfortable. I'm self conscious about each of my movements and with those pupils staring into my own; I realise I'm completely out of my depth.

"So," I mean to say, but it comes out as more of a croak: my voice rusty, and deep. I doubt Dean could even understand what I said.

"You wanna… do something?" He asks, shrugging his shoulders. "I mean- if you want me to leave that's totally cool. Well, not really, but I swear I'll leave you alone." He laughs but I see him writhing his hands together, digging his thumb into his other hand's palm. He's nervous, really nervous. He's also blushing like hell.

"Nah," I say. We've gotten this far haven't we? And I want him to stay. I shouldn't, all kinds of crap could happen if he did. But then again, what would happen if he left? "It's... You know what its fine. How about we watch a film? I've got a bunch in the front room." This is good. Much less unnerving, now I just need to hide the colour of my cheeks.

"Yeah," Dean bites his lip. "Yeah, I would like that. That would be great, Cas."

Dean skims through my movie collection. The majority are things like Marvel, Lord of The Rings and Star Trek, and I'm worried about what he might think of my utterly geeky selection, but then I see him grin and pull out the DVD for Iron Man.

"Dude, can I just say, that you have the greatest taste in films ever." He says.

And then…

And the awkward thing happens. Actually, awkward doesn't begin to describe it.

I didn't hear Dean complimenting me on my movie style, because I was staring- hm ah ok. Maybe just, ugh, I'm an idiot, but it's so, just, aghh.

I was staring at his butt.

Which would have been completely fine, if there wasn't a mirror to the left of us. Which he was looking in, when I was… looking.

There was a moment of silence: possibly the worst and most uncomfortable moment of my entire life. And then he turned around to me, a big goofy grin spreading across his face.

"You got a taste for that kind of stuff, huh?" he asks, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

This. Is. Not. Happening. There is no way I'm going to answer that. But it was a rhetorical question, right? Right? Holy crap I should have said something by now, he just caught me staring as his butt. What in hell am I supposed to say? Agh, no, I'm over thinking this. Wait. Heck no. I'm under thinking this. Dean freaking Winchester, king of hotness, is hitting on me.

I have approximately zero words that could express what I'm feeling right now.

Dean looks intently into my eyes, and then his own jade greens begin to wander to my hair and to my… lips. He blushes like mad when he sees I've noticed him staring. But he doesn't stop. His expression's now smoother and full of- longing. I've seen the way Charlie looks at Gilda. It's definitely longing. A new air of confidence completely overcomes him and he gently places a hand on my hip. I think he does it to give me time to stop him, it's his way of asking if he should continue. I'm paralysed to the spot, even if I didn't want Dean to carry on, there was no way I could have said it out loud.

Next thing I know he has a finger under my chin and is slowly tilting my head up until our lips are level. And then he kisses me.

**Dean's POV**

This is most beautiful thing. No. The most beautiful thing is when he kisses me back.

He's so gentle, and then he brings in the tongue, and it dances with my own, he's playing with me, luring me to him, but not giving me everything. And then I can't take it any more; I grab his perfect, raven black hair in my hands and smack our faces together, until there's no space between us. I can hardly breathe. Neither of us can. I move one of my hands down, steadying Cas' hips, and when start to massage them and he gives in too. I can feel his hands all over me. They're up my shirt, stroking my abs, and then they move around my waist and grab my ass. I smile, and chuckle a bit at that, and I feel him smile through the kiss too.

I've broken him, finally. At least I hope I have, honestly, I've no idea what any of this means. All I know is that here and now, I want to stay in his arms forever. I want to do so much right now, I want to throw him on the sofa and push myself on top of him until all our senses have disappeared and all we know is each other, I want to slam him against the wall and make out until Gabriel comes home, I want to do so, so much, but I have to play it smooth. Although that's what I told myself about just kissing him, and look how that worked out.

I still pull him against me though, and my hands wander up his back and then slide around to his chest, and his stomach. Everything about him is so delicate, yet so defined. I reluctantly take my palms away as I notice that I really need to slow down. I place them gently back on his waist, and he strokes down my arms. "Cas?" I say, as I pull back from the kiss. I rest my chin on his head and I feel so comfortable like that, with the heat from his angled face against my chest. I notice my jacket had been stripped from me at some point in the process, and I'm just wearing a tight black t-shirt and my jeans.

"Mmm hmm," Comes his reply, we're still both panting a little, and his voice is changed to that sexy growl he can't help but do.

"How about that movie?" I ask. He nods, and slips the film into the TV, never letting go of my hand.

We lie on the sofa together, Cas curled into me, no talking, just watching.

Half an hour later we're sleeping, and I don't doubt we were dreaming of each other.

8am, Sunday morning, and I wake up with Cas in my arms. Son. Of. A. Bitch. I remember everything. We weren't drunk, it wasn't a fantasy, It was real. When did I ever get this lucky?

I feel the blue eyed boy stir beneath me and I'm so happy, but at the same time... I'm terrified. What if he doesn't want this? Who am I kidding? of course he doesn't want this! So what do I do? Time's up, jerk. I think to myself. He's awake already.

"Dean?" Cas turns around, his eyebrows furrowed in adorable confusion and his head cocked to the side. Then, as if suddenly registering everything, he shouts, "DEAN!" His face goes all wild with surprise and red with embarrassment and I can't do anything but panic.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." I start, but I'm already away from him and grabbing my coat and shoes, not bothering to put either on. I can hear him calling my name, but I shut it all out.

I've ruined everything.


	8. Chapter 8

**Cas' POV**

What have I done? He ran away. He regrets it. It was spur of the moment. He's probably never even kissed a guy before.

I look out the window: the sun's shining; I made out with Dean; I should be happy. I suppose I am, but at the same time I'm completely devastated. I should never have let him get this close to me. The kiss was amazing, his tongue, his teeth, the way he gripped my hair and my waist like there was no letting go. I want it again, but he doesn't.

I bet he won't even talk to me now… what am I going to be like? Wandering from class to class with my head buried a book and Dean's kiss buried in my head. I can't deal with the awkward eye contact that will be there every time we pass in the halls. This is exactly why I shoved him away from me in the first place. I make friends, all sorts of types, and then I screw something up and they leave me. And then I feel like this, and I really hate feeling like this; so guilty and plain out sad.

I said it before and I'll say it again.

I've ruined everything.

At least there's no school tomorrow, the teachers have training or something so we don't start until Tuesday. But I can't sit here for two days mourning someone I never really had. I'm calling Charlie.

She Picks up on the third ring.

"Castiel, hey!"

"Hello Charlie," I try to sound positive, there's no way it worked.

"What's up? Are you all right?" I stay silent. "Cee, What happened?" I can't take all these questions, what am I supposed to say? Dean kissed me but I messed something up and he ran away and I don't know what to do with myself. Somehow I don't think that will quite get the message across.

I mean to hang up the phone, given that I can't find anything to reply with, but I don't. Instead I start crying. I feel pathetic, letting someone do this to me, but I knew this would happen. It's why I was so cautious to start.

"What- No, okay screw it I'm coming over." And the press of a button leaves me holding a silent cell.

Whilst I'm waiting for Charlie to arrive, I suddenly realize that Gabe isn't home. He's only fourteen, so I'm not worried about… anything. But I'm still concerned. I pick my phone up to call him, but see a text he left me last night.

_staying at sams for the night, ill be back by 4pm tomorrow. dont worry brother, i wont do anything ;)_

I sigh. His lack of punctuation and capital letters in the text still finds a way to frustrate me, but I have bigger things on my mind. At least he's happy.

Charlie lets herself in. She's had the key to my house for over two years now - she's my best and only friend, so I don't really see why not.

My eyes are still red when she sees me. I'm sitting on the couch eating dry cereal and watching Doctor Who -Doomsday. As if I need more tears in my life.

"Cee, what happened?" She pulls me into a hug and I lean on her shoulder, crying again. How did this even happen? I never cry; I only did once when dad went missing, and also a few weeks back when Gabriel came out to me. I tend to stay pretty clear of these kinds of emotions. They only dig me deeper.

"I- Dean came over yesterday, Charlie"

And so I give her the rap.

It's soon decided that I need to clear my mind, and what better way then going to the party tonight at Kevin Tran - the most popular nerd in school's house.

"C'mon Castiel. We're basically invited anyway!" I look at her with a puzzled expression. Us? Invited to a party? No way.

"Well, Gilda is friends with his cousin. I'm sure she could bring us along without making us look completely out of place. We could even dress up for it." She nudges and winks at me, I puff out my cheeks.

"You know what, that sounds cool." I shrug. What's the worst that could happen? Whatever I can do to get Dean out my mind will do.

At that moment I here Gabe butt through the door, a glance at my watch tells me he's 15 minutes late, but I couldn't care less.

"I'm really, really sorry!" He gasps with his hands on his knees. Clearly he's been running.

"It's ok, little brother. Have fun?" He looks at me with so much confusion.

"Wait, aren't I, like, grounded or something?"

"Eh, it's a one off."

"Are you okay, Castiel?"

"Course I am. Charlie and I are going out to a party in a few hours, by the way. I'll put some pasta on for you later, but please go to bed at a normal time. We don't have school tomorrow either, remember." Gabriel fist pumps. "Just tell me if you're going out, kapeesh?"

"kapeesh."

"Then I'll see you later, dude."

"Wanna try some makeup?"

"What the hell, Charlie?"

"Hey it's not like I'm making you wear a dress! Just try a little bit of eye-liner and mascara, I swear you don't have to keep it on if you don't want to."

"I know I'm gay, but I don't make you wear boxers!"

She rolls her eyes and grins. "Give it a go. _Please_."

"Ugh. Fine."

And so I sit patiently whilst Charlie pulls out a freaking pencil and starts drawing on my eye. Are there actually people who do this every day? It's horrible, my eyes start watering and every so often I yank my head back when it gets too uncomfortable. Then she claims she's does with the eyeliner.

"There's just a touch under your eye Castiel, stop flipping out, it makes the blue look gorgeous."

"Fine, are you done?" I turn my head towards the mirror.

"Don't look yet!" She spins my face back around. "And no, I still need to put on some mascara. Barely any though, no one will even notice."

"Well let's get it over with then, quickly please, I need to get changed."

I have to blink in an awkward way several times and then Charlie proclaims that she's finished. "Hey, it looks great! Please keep it on? Please, Cee."

I look in the mirror and for a moment I barely recognize myself, cliché as it sounds. And it just so happens, that it really does almost make me look good.

Whilst Charlie stays in the bathroom to do her own makeup I swap my jogging bottoms and baggy shirt for some new clothes. I'm not sure why, but I vouch for the slightly tighter of my black jeans, and instead of an actual smart-ish shirt I take dark blue long sleeved t-shirt, which thanks to Charlie, I notice is the exact colour of my eyes. The t-shirt has a couple of buttons up top that I choose to leave undone. Hopefully it will look casual.

After I've said bye to Gabe, Charlie and I grab our coats. I don't wear my trench coat very often; I usually go for hoodies and suchlike. They make it easier to stay hidden. But I'm feeling different at the moment; the makeup and the clothes… they make me feel like a different person. Like maybe I could forget about Dean for a bit – forget about the kiss. But a voice in my head tells me that we both know that isn't happening any time soon.

**Dean's POV**

Highway to Hell – ACDC, starts hammering out of my phone. I check the caller: it's Crowley. I feel disappointed, and then I realise I was probably hoping it would be Cas. If there's any evidence needed to prove that I'm desperate, it's that I'm sitting here expecting a call from someone who doesn't even have my number.

I gather my emotions up before I answer to Crowley, he's a cool dude, bit of a douche though. We've hung out a couple of times, platonically of course. That guy's straight as nails, even if he doesn't sound it. He mainly just talks about some crappy band he's in with a few other kids from school.

"Hey man"

"Hi there Dean" Oh, and he's also British. Very British. "Okay, so for a band name, what do you think of 'Kings of Hell'?"

"Seriously Dude? Kings of Hell? Way to cliché."

"Well give me something better then; the lads want to call it 'Squirrel and Moose', which is bloody ridiculous. Now 'Moose and Squirrel'… that would be much better. Oh and did I tell you about our new singer, Abaddon? She's an annoying bitch but the girl's got a voice, and a hell of a body- wait. If anyone asks I didn't say that."

"Yeah sure whatever."

"So you got any ideas for band names?"

I imagine Cas' lips and his hair and his gorgeous deep eyes. Then I remember the thought I had the first time I met him.

"Fallen Angels."

"Wait, come on. If 'The Kings of Hell is cliché then 'Fallen Angels' is something else. Also me, an angel?"

"A fallen one, just maybe. And yeah I suppose you're right." I smack my head in a way that he can't hear.

"Oh and man, there's a party at Kevin's tonight, starts 9-ish? You should come."

That might actually be good. It would take my mind off of Cas for a bit, anyway. "Yeah, sounds like a plan.

"Cool, I'll text you the address. Tata." And he hangs up.

I get distracted, though by nothing in particular, just pondering around, moaning at Sammy about leaving his crap all over the floor. By the time I've made a pathetic meal for the two of us and forced Sam into his room for the night, it's past eleven. I don't reach Kevin's until midnight.

By now everyone's already pretty hammered, so I grab a beer to try and lose myself in it all. I walk into the crowd of dancers but it's like I can't fall in sync with anyone else. Everybody's dancing so low down that at almost 6ft tall I feel massive and uncomfortable. I just don't fit in. Where other people writhe and touch at all the skin contact that comes from dancing so close, I feel awkward and completely out of place.

It's strange. I've always merged into this kind of stuff so well. And then I just want Cas with me; I know that if I were dancing with him I wouldn't care about anything else around me. But I screwed shit up and now I'll most likely never talk to him again, never mind dance with him. Never mind kiss him. And then I feel a stab in my chest because just thinking about him hurts and all I want is for the hurting to stop. That's a lie actually. All I want is Cas.

I slip ungracefully out of the hoard of dancers and go over to get another drink; I've got to distract myself somehow.

And then I see him. Cas. Not anymore I tell myself. He's never been yours and he never will be. And as if God is trying to prove a point, I see what he's doing. It's like a fist to the guts - worse, actually.

My blue-eyed boy… he's making out with a girl.


	9. Chapter 9

**Deans' POV**

"This is wrong. This is very wrong." Cas says to the girl, addressing her as if she were a child who'd been naughty.

She giggles and rolls her eyes, "Oh shut up and kiss me would you," Cas looks at her for a moment, thoughtful, then as if having decided something, he shrugs and leans forwards, wrapping his hands around her waist and taking her lips with his own, you can see her reaction as he sticks his tongue down her throat and I want to be sick.

The two stay there for a moment, and I keeps glancing away and glancing back because I really don't want to believe it. They stumble backwards until Cas tumbles onto a sofa behind them and the female falls on top, then, whilst still kissing of course, they slowly sit up and she wraps her legs around him.

"Woah are you good at this," she says, slowly getting out of breath, but still building up the pace. "My pizza man," she smirks and then Cas gives her the most adorable frown.

"Hey! It's just a part time job, leave me alone."

"Mmm whatever," and she takes his mouth again.

I watch from a short distance, straining to hear their words. A shock of pain is sent through me as Cas grips her ass and her breasts and she reacts by touching him everywhere, soon it's all so intense that they've both closed their eyes. And they're doing this in someone else's living room. I'm about to leave when Cas groans.

"Dean, Deeeaan oh my God ugghhh De-dean this is amazing."

What the hell?

I spin around, expecting God knows what, just in time to see the girl jump off Cas, who's eyes stand out even more so then usual, though I don't know why.

"What were you saying?!" she shouts at him.

"Whuu?" Cas looks dazed and confused, why does he always look so confused?

"You were saying Dean. You said it over and over again. Who's Dean?!" She's throwing hand gestures around like crazy and I'm so bewildered. Was Cas thinking about me as he made out with this girl? Was he pretending she was me?

"Well I did keep saying what we were doing was wrong, Meg."

"What are even talking about?"

"Well I'm gay, duh." Praise the fucking Lord; I have a chance. It's no fun hitting on a straight guy, and it's no fun falling for one either.

"Castiel, how many beers have you had?"

"Ughh I don't k-know" He hiccups and it's so cute I wish I'd filmed it for later.

Okay that's officially the least manly thought I've ever had.

'Meg' raises her eyebrows at him.

"I stopped counting at like 7? C'mon giiimme a break." Oh, he's drunk. Of course he is. He was just joking around, the kiss was an accident for him, I still don't stand a chance. His words are slurring and I suddenly realize how pale he is. He starts rocking from side to side and I know that look, I've seen it in my father too many times.

He's about to pass out. Meg starts panicking and I know nobody's going to catch him in time… Screw it. I run over and just as his swaying get's out of control I sweep him off his feet. Not with my looks, but I have a habit of that too.

I look Meg right in the eyes and I hope I burn them with the anger I'm blazing in there.

"And you are?" she spits at me.

"The name's Dean," I reply, but I don't wait to see her reaction. Before I know it I'm out of the house, and carrying a barely conscious Castiel to the impala.

"Come on baby," I whisper, "lets get you out of here."

**Cas' POV**

I open my eyes, and I have no idea where I am.

I assume I must have fallen asleep somewhere, until I taste the alcohol on my tongue and a headache strikes my skull, and I realise that I more likely passed out. This isn't like me, not one bit.

I rub my eyes and try to focus, but everything's blurry and my head's pounding. My vision slowly comes to focus and a minute later I'm aware that I'm lying in the backseat of a car. I hear Metallica playing quietly out of the speakers and then I comprehend… I'm in Dean's impala.

I have a vague memory of his arms around me, carrying me; meaning I must have passed out at Kevin's, but I don't remember his green eyes being there. And even then, if Dean was at the party when whatever I've forgotten occurred… why did he help me? After last never, I never thought he'd want to look at me again.

"Cas!" Dean spins around from the driver's seat, clearly having just noticed I'm awake, and there's so much concern in his voice that I don't have it in me to ask him speak quieter, but I think he understands and he talks in a lower voice. "How are you feeling?"

"My head…" I murmur.

"Hey hey, it's alright, you don't need to say anything." I want to tell him thank you, and ask for an explanation for… well. Everything. But everything hurts too much.

"Wh- what happened?" I whisper, barely audibly.

"Well, you kinda sorta passed out at Kevin's, you had a six pack too many I reckon." Everything's buzzing; I can't concentrate on the words.

"Wuh? I don't have a six pack." That's a lie, actually. Also why was Dean bringing up stomach muscles? I remember the firmness of his and I have to pinch myself to stop from smirking.

"No you idiot!" Dean blushes. I think. "I said a six pack of beer, you've clearly never been properly wasted before. It's not big and it's not clever, but it's sure as hell worth it when the stuff's in your system."

My head. It hurts so much I can barely think, so I just groan in reply.

"Who was that girl, Cas?" Crap. She was a rebound, something to take my mind off you. I don't like her, heck I don't even like girls. Not like that, anyway. ButI don't have the brain capacity to say all that right now. I'll just… I can pretend I didn't hear the question, we'd solve it later, get over it, right?

I rake my hands through my hair, and speak drowsily. It's not much of an effort. "Hmmm…?"

Dean bows his head. "Nothing. It was nothing."

I feel awful; all I can do is curl into a tight ball of guilt.

"You okay there, Cas?"

"It's so- so hot- in h-here." It is actually; I suddenly realize that I can barely breathe.

"Well let's get out of here then. I drove us some place nice." His smile is so warm, gentle, caring. If I was sober I don't know if I could keep myself off him. Although; if I were sober, we wouldn't be in this situation.

Just as I begin to wonder how I'm going to stand up, Dean's climbed out of the car and is opening the back door for me, I try to sit up but I get a head rush and fall back.

"Whoa, don't go trying anything wild there, Cassie." Before I know it his arms are wrapped under my legs and back, and he's hoisting me off the seats like I weigh nothing. I feel his muscles tense around me and I try my hardest not to reach out and squeeze them. Like I said: thank god I'm not sober.

I close my eyes as he walks, I'm not sure why. I think I'm just trying to absorb his warmth and softness whilst it lasts.

"Have a look, Cas."

He's sat me down next to him, we're propped up against a rock, with dying grass beneath us. He didn't completely let go when he put me down, and I feel an arm wrapped around me. Only when I open my eyes do I notice that my head is leaning against his shoulder. Despite everything that's happened between the two of us, neither seem to mind. This is a problem for another day, I decide.

A lake is lain out before us, and it's beautiful. The moon shines off it in a way I've only seen in movies; the light dancing on the gentle waves.

"It'... It's amazing." I say so quietly I doubt Dean even heard.

"Blue," he says, "Just like your eyes." His cheeks turn pink and I realise that he probably never meant to say it out loud.

I don't speak after that, neither of us do. We just sit together silently… until the sun rises over the trees and scyscrapers in the distance, and settles onto the lake.


	10. Chapter 10

**Cas' POV**

Usually when reading a story where the unimaginable happens, the next day the main character always wakes up like everything is normal, and then all of a sudden everything that happened the previous day, all the trauma, happiness, or despair, is remembered, and they need a minute to sit back and digest everything that occurred. But that's not what happened today.

I woke up, and as soon as I felt the warm body pressed against mine, warming me against the morning's chill, I knew. I knew everything that had taken place last night, and that today I wouldn't ignore it; I wouldn't deny what I was feeling and I wouldn't drag myself away from happiness yet again. I deserve this. No I don't, I don't deserve anything. But I want it… I want it so bad that to say no again would be torture.

"Cas," Dean murmurs quietly.

"Mm hm," I hum in answer. We've both sort of fell on top of each other whilst falling asleep, my upper body's gently curled in his lap, and his head and shoulders rest on my back.

"You wanna get up?"

I shake my head. "No." I want to stay in this position forever; before the awkwardness and reality of the situation hits us both.

"Me neither," he says softly.

Dean sits up slightly, leaning against the rock behind us. I feel a strange tickle, and realise he's playing with my hair, twirling it between his fingers and stroking my head with his thumb.

I turn my head, slowly, to ensure that he doesn't stop. It's the most calming and darn cute thing ever. He's fiddling with my ear as we make eye contact, and his smile may only have been slight, but his eyes were creased and alight; they compete with the green of the trees behind him until the two colours merge into one and they shine at me with such beauty that the sunset we witnessed last night isn't even a contestant.

He slips his fingers through my hair and stops at my forehead, barely touching, he runs his thumb down to my eyelids, and I feel my lashes flutter.

He chuckles to himself and when I frown ever so slightly at him he speaks.

"You wearing makeup, Cas?"

Crap.

"It was all Charlie!" I raise my vice only marginally louder then the whispers we've accustomed ourselves to. "She came over before the party and-"

"Hey, heey." He laughs some more. "It's fine, actually…"

"Yeah?" I ask, confused.

"I actually kinda like it." he blushes, biting his lip and ducking his head. He's shy.

"Really?"

He sticks his tongue in his cheek. "Yeah,"

My chest warms and at the closeness of the two of us I feel myself starting to go hard. For fuck's sake, not now. Not yet.

We're only inches away and I watch as his calloused, but somehow delicate looking, hand make its way back to my face. He brushes under my eyes where I reckon some of the eyeliner has smudged.

His fingers wander some more and I find him stroking the edge of my stubbled chin. Then they make their way to the curve of my mouth.

We stare at each other for what feels like hours. It's like a battle of who will look away first. I lose, blinking timidly. But then he taps a fingertip under my chin, slowly tilting my head sideways until we're facing again. He mutters something.

"I'm gonna kiss you now." The words are barely audible, but goddamn if that husky voice isn't the sexiest thing I've ever heard.

"O-okay," I reply, lost for words or even thoughts as he cups the back of my neck and pulls our heads together.

And then I actually wake up.

I'm curled under a jacket; brown leather with a musky smell… Dean's. A vague dream Dances behind my eyelids, I see his face, but just as I'm about to grasp onto the memory it unlatches and falls away. I notice I'm smiling though, at least it was a happy one.

Rubbing my eyes and looking at my palms, which are now slightly smudged with black from the makeup Charlie applied, I let out a self-conscious moan and begin an attempt to clean the rest of the stuff off.

"What, aw c'mon don't take it off." A tall, well-built figure appears behind me. One who may or may not have the most gorgeous legs, chest, and lips ever known to man. "Please, it looks great on you."

"Dean?" I stop rubbing.

"Yeah it's me, you all right there?" My head's kind of hurting but it's nothing to complain about.

"Yeah... yeah I'm fine thanks." Then I take in Dean again, eyeing rustled bed-hair that I have to stop myself from pouncing on and devouring with my hands. He's wearing another of those tight-fitted t-shirts of his, and his stomach muscles and biceps are honestly painful to resist. He's shivering, and it comes to my attention that I'm wearing his only means of keeping warm. I left my trench-coat back at the party, but it's only right to hand dean's warmth back to him. "Thank you so much for lending me your jacket, Dean. You can have it back now if you like."

"Ah Cas, always so formal." He mumbles.

"Huh?"

"Nothing," And then the handsome devil winks at me. I'm not going to last much longer.

I pretend to not have seen him, though I feel the hotness of my cheeks may have massively given it away. "Dean… What exactly happened last night?"

He runs me through every incident, even me making out with Meg, though I remember enough of that to tell him to skip the details.

"Did you and Meg…?" The older Winchester looks serious and slightly uneasy. But if Meg's involved in this, I'm sure I'll be the awkward-feeling one later. "Did any of that mean anything to you?"

"Honestly?" At the mention of a truth behind all this craziness, Dean raises his eyebrows, almost hopefully. "No. She doesn't mean crap to me. I got drunk and fed up of telling her to stop."

"Why? I mean- she's real nice Cas. Why not treat yourself every once in a while?"

Shit. "She's just… not my type."

"Not your type? Cas, she's every straight guys type!"

"Exactly." The words are out before I even realise. And there's no taking it back, is there?

"What?"

I don't say anything. I don't look him in the eye. I don't move.

"Cas, if you're trying to come out to me then may I say you're doing a pretty crappy job of it." He chuckles.

"Assbutt," I whisper in reply.

"So?" Dean asks.

"'So' what?"

"Are you queer? It's not that hard a question man."

I rake my hands through my hair. This wasn't supposed to happen. What if he's a homophobe? What if he feels awkward being around me because he thinks I'm always checking him out? Well, you are. A voice inside me says. I tell that voice to shut the hell up, because I'm about to lose someone again; someone who liked me and cared for me, even when I shoved them away. It's happening again. "Yes." I whisper.

And then the unspeakable happens.

The corners of dean's lips raise, it's barely noticeable, but in these last few weeks I've come to observe each tiny action of his: each small speck of beauty that basically radiates sex. We are both 18, so I suppose it's not mad to think and act like this. It definitely isn't. But he smiles at me, and then it grows until he's grinning at me, as if I were stupid over getting so traumatised about it. I momentarily acknowledge that it was stupid of me, Sam's gay and dean doesn't give a crap. Why would he think any differently of me?

"Dude, don't worry about it."

"Wait?" I move my hands from my face, "Really?"

"Well, I myself am about as straight as Charlie's hair."

"Huh, it's not very straight dean…. Or very curly."

"Well duh,"

I just cock my head to the side and look at him confusedly

"I'm bi"

"Oh,"

"Wait, that's not a-" searches for a word. "Problem? Is it?'

Problem? "Not in the slightest." As all the information settles is I suddenly realise.

I actually have a chance.


	11. Chapter 11

**Cas' POV**

"It's a crappy world, isn't it?"

"What?" I ask.

"Prejudice. Women, gays, Jews: pretty much everyone has put up with some sort of crap. I mean, barely anyone even knows I'm bi, and I don't hide it, I just… don't tell anyone. It's like society is trying to make me ashamed of it, but I'm not, I just don't really care that much."

"You mean you don't care what people would think about you? The countless people who would just claim you're confused, rather then accepting that it's a genuine sexuality."

He chuckles. "Well when you put it like that, yeah I suppose I do, I tend to kind of cancel out people like that from my life though. That way I don't have to put up with anything from people who do find out."

My mouth tugs to the side a little, because I love his confidence and optimism for his situation.

"Although…" he starts. "There was one school, a while back, where I met this guy. He was pretty cool, my age but Sam's friend. What was his name? …Brady! Yeah, that's it. Anyway, this one time we were at a party: we both got pretty wasted and ended up making out in an upstairs bedroom – as you do. And then this girl who I'd been flirting with a bit walks in, and we're really not doing much other then kissing, but she starts screaming her head off. Like, actually screaming. So Brady and I pull apart, but of course pretty much every person at the party hears and comes running up the stairs, probably expecting a catfight or something. Then she starts screeching about what she saw us doing, and how we were 'sinful plagues, destined for hell'. She was a bit of a nut actually. That night nothing else really happened, Brady and I went home our different ways and I guess we both just tried to forget about it until Monday." He raises his eyebrows, questioning if he should carry on with the story, and I nod my head minutely.

"When school came round I kept my head low, I hadn't made much of a statement of myself before that and I knew I was going to be out of the state before the end of the week, so there was no point trying anything on. But the next day I was using the locker room after school, and I saw Brady in his basketball kit surrounded by the rest of the team. His face was bruised and blood was leaking from somewhere. Boys shouting at him, screaming _faggot_ and _queer_ like they meant nothing, crowded him." He pulls a disgusted face when saying the words, and then takes a deep breathe before continuing.

"This time, I got mad. Dammit, Cas, I don't know what came over me; when I saw them doing that to Brady, for doing _nothing… _I flipped. It was like a James Bond movie, where I took them on one on one until I was the last one left standing."

"How the hell did you know how to do all that?"

"Ha, I don't know. I guess I just watch a lot of Bruce Lee." I snicker, and he smiles. "But yeah, at that moment I was so busy trying to let everyone know that I wasn't bothered by what they thought, that when I realized I actually did care, I just snapped."

"I get it. Like, you're so caught up in attempting not to give a crap, that you aren't aware of how much time you spend worrying about it?" I ask. Because when he said that last bit it was like he understood everything I've gone through involving this. _Everything._

"Yeah Cas, exactly." Like he's suddenly remembered or noticed something, Dean grins and me.

"What?" I quiz him.

"It's just… maybe we're not as different as you seem to think."

I look away. We're too close, too comfortable with each other. We shouldn't be talking about these things, what if he tells someone? I know I'm paranoid, I know – given everything he's just told me – that I can trust Dean, but I still panic. It's what I do best.

"Maybe." I whisper.

"Anyway," The other boy spontaneously jumps to his feet. "You left your coat at Kevin's, right?" slightly startled, I nod. "Well let's go get it back."

We gather ourselves up and start walking the short distance back to the impala. I'm biting my nails, not really thinking about anything.

And then the mood drops, from neutral to deathly:

"SHIT." Dean, standing barely a meter away, shouts.

I whip my head around to him. "What is it?"

He starts raking his hand through his hair and I see the other is preoccupied with his phone, which he's staring wide-eyed at.

He looks over at me, as if he's only just registered my being there, though we were talking just a few minutes ago.

"Yeah, Cas. It's just…" He starts manically typing and then holds the phone to his ear. "It's Sammy. I've got over a dozen missed calls from him- SHIT! PICK UP YOUR GODDAMN PHONE." He yells into the mobile before it starts to go onto voicemail.

I hear a distant 'Hey it's Sam, you know what to do." And Dean takes a deep breathe before speaking.

"Hey Sammy, man, I've got like a hundred missed calls from you. What happened? I'm gonna listen to the voicemails you left me now, please just call me back, okay?" The older Winchester hangs up. "_Son of a bitch you idiot Dean. Why the hell did you leave your phone on silent_?" He mutters to himself.

"Dean?"

"He was calling me at 4am, Cas. _4am. _ Something must've happened, something really screwed up. Crap, give me a minute, Cas_. _Give me a decade."

Dialing for his voicemail he holds the phone to his ear, but from what I can hear there's too much noise in the background to make out what Sam's saying. Dean changes the settings to loudspeaker and I wonder if it's appropriate for me to be listening in, too late now anyway.

The first thing I hear is sobbing. Violent sobbing.

Not the kind one does after watching a sad film but the kind that pours out of somebody when they find out a loved one has died. When they break down and their legs crumple beneath them, losing the ability to even hold them up on their own two feet.

'Dean, Some- something's happened to Gabe.' Sobbing. ' He won't stop. He won't stop!' More sobbing. 'Dean!' Gasping for breath. 'Make it stop.' Sam starts choking on the words and suddenly the call is over. Dean's finger flicks to press a button and we listen to the call again. _Something's happened to Gabe. _My mind barely registers. _I have to make it stop_.

And that's it. Gabe. What won't he stop, why won't he stop? And then I realize I'm falling. Because my legs can't hold me up. And I just crumple beneath the weight of my body and the words that have been smashed into my skull. My shoulders cave in and drop to the ground with the rest of me and only a miniscule part of my brain acknowledges Dean standing away from me; hands hanging by his sides; dead green eyes staring at nothing. His face comatose and his limbs limp, he turns to my face. Not looking me in the eye, still not looking at anything, he whispers to me. "_What won't he stop?"_


	12. Chapter 12

**Dean's POV**

I managed to call Sam again. I don't exactly know how. It was a step-by-step process. Take one move at a time and don't let the thoughts in. That leak, which they're dripping through? Block it. That tsunami: ready to drown you? Ignore it. I found the energy to pick the mobile off the ground, where I'd dropped it. I stopped my hands from shaking for long enough to dial his number. I gathered the strength in my arms to pull the phone to my ear. But I didn't have enough in me to look Cas in the eye.

Pray that Sammy answers his phone.

Pray to anyone and anything, whether it's angels or Led Zeppelin, just beg that this whole thing is one big misunderstanding. A massive super-nova of a mistake, swallowing our mundane lives like Godzilla. Like a black hole. A black hole swallowing a super-nova. Because anything else is too painful to accept.

Keep on praying that Sammy answers his phone.

'_Hey it's Sam' _He does. Thank who ever you prayed for. Thank them like lives depended on it. For all I know they did. For all I know they still do.

"Sam-" '_You know what to do' _He didn't answer. It's his voicemail.

Hate yourself. That's my next step. Hate yourself because you were stupid enough to think he'd actually picked up. Now end the call. End it because you know you don't actually have it in you to leave a message.

Your phone's ringing. _Dean_. It's actually ringing. Check, who's calling? It's Sam. Check again. It's definitely Sam.

Answer it. Gather the strength again. Calm your shaking hands. Raise your limp arms. Answer the call. Pull the phone back to your ear. Speak. Don't panic. Speak.

"Sammy?"

He's crying, he's trying to hold back the tears but he just ends up choking on them.

"Sammy." Talk louder. Don't whisper. Don't let Sam know how scared you are. Don't let him know about the thousands of ideas of all the horrible things that could have happened. Don't let him know that they're eating you alive. Of course they are. But you can't give away that. Be who you were raised to be. An older brother. A father figure. Take a deep breathe. Hold it. Hold it. Speak. "What happened?"

"It's Gabe." He says, gulping after each word. Don't tell him you know that already. Don't interrogate the information out of him. Look after your baby brother. Wait for him to tell you.

He shouts the next words. Probably because they hurt too much to say like fact. Don't deny you understand that. Don't deny that you understand how he's acting through his pain. "I don't know! He just fell to the ground and started-" the violent sobs are back again. "He just started shaking."

Don't. Freak. Out.

Be a father figure. Act like you know what the fuck to do.

Don't. Freak. Out.

"Then what, Sammy?" Don't say any more. You might start crying too.

"I called an ambulance and they took him away. I've been sitting in the waiting room for hours. I haven't even slept – oh my god dean what am I going to do? The hospital tried calling Castiel but he didn't answer either." Castiel: The poor boy lying at your feet. Lying there doing nothing. Blanking out existence. Trying to drown out the thoughts but instead drowning in them. Cas.

"Where are you now?"

"M- Mercy Hospital." Silence. "Dean?" He asks. His voice hitches. "Are you coming for me?"

It's going to be okay. Tell yourself that until you believe it.

"Always." You answer. And you continue to repeat those 5 words, even though you know the truth.

It's not going to be okay.

"Sam?" I shout, looking desperately for the tall boy with painfully long hair.

I'd pulled Cas into the car as soon as the call was over, suddenly springing to life, offering little information. Luckily for me, he was too aggrieved to ask for it anyway. I was now in the hospital, trying to find the younger Winchester.

"Sam! SAM! Where are you-" There's a pull on my sleeve.

"Dean," I spin around to my little brother.

"Sammy, what's… Cas?" The hand tugging my jacket isn't rough and calloused like my brother's. Instead it is thin, with long and elegant fingers; like the kind you would imagine belonging to a pianist. As an alternative to a musician, however, they're owner is a raven black haired, flushed faced, and red eyed Castiel; who I could have sworn I just sent away to look for his own younger brother.

"He had a seizure," Cas state. Not however, like it's a fact, but as a 'look how ridiculous the doctors are they think Gabriel had a seizure but clearly it wasn't oh they're so silly aren't they'.

"Cas, man… are you okay?" Of course he's not, but it's what I've got to ask in these sorts of situations, isn't it?

And then He does the unthinkable. He smiles. And then there are tears falling from his eyes, out of nowhere, and the smile turns into a grimace.

"What am I going to do? It's back, Dean! They said it was gone and it's BACK!"

"What's back? What's going on? Please tell me, Cas, because honestly… these last few hours… I've been clueless." And he falls on me. We're both standing, but he falls and it just happens to be forwards onto me. I don't even think about it before I wrap my arms around him and rest my chin on his shoulder, as he does the Sam.

"What's back, Cas?" I ask again, gentler.

And just like that, the reason for everything that's happened today just slips out of him. "His epilepsy."

I've never told anyone. Not even Sam's aware of the little things I remember about her: about our mum.

She died when I was four; nobody knows that I remember that day; nobody ever asked. She was in Sammy's nursery when it started, but we didn't know that. Dad grabbed the baby from the crib and placed him in my arms. "Take your brother outside as fast as you can, don't look back. Now, Dean! Go!" I did as I was told.

Dad stayed back to look for mum; he thought she was still in their bedroom. I don't know what happened after that; he would never talk about it. All I know is that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The nursery blew up - with her in it.

She plays with my mind sometimes, when I wonder what life would have been like with her in it. Sometimes I imagine mum when things are stressful, though her face I can only recall from photos.

I'm thinking about her when I rush into the waiting room, all heart and no head, and see Sammy sitting in a long row of empty seats, with his head in his hands. I'm thinking about her soft gestures and kind voice when I slip into the seat next to him with question and concern in my eyes. Quietly, he starts talking.

"I'm not family so they won't let me see him." He snivels. "They won't even say what's happening. Just that he had a seizure, they're doing all they can to figure out why, and that he'll be okay. But they don't know that, do they? They don't know anything about it, so how can they say that he's going to be okay?" his voice hitches on the last word, and I pull my baby brother over to me, until we sit side by side, a foot between us, with his head resting on my shoulder.

There are things other than the fire that I remember about mum. Stupid little things, like her cutting the crusts off my sandwiches, or putting me to sleep.

I remember what she would whisper in my ear every night as I drifted off in my bed, and I whisper it to Sammy now, because he deserved a mum. He deserved a loving family with a dad to look out for him and a brother who could guard over him, but he ended up with us.

"It's gonna be alright Sammy…" I say softly. "Angels are watching over us."


	13. Chapter 13

**Cas' POV**

One day, 6 years ago, when Gabe was 8 and I was 12, before dad went missing, before mum turned into the wreck she is now, I came home from school to find the house empty. Gabe was still at elementary school, so mum still picked him up on a daily bases, I was vaguely aware that they should have been back at least half an hour ago. Dad worked a confusing job, which none of us understood much, and due his 'high authority' as he put it, was in and out of the house all the time. He was rarely home for dinner. Because of this, I took an easy assumption that he was working. Mum and Gabe were also probably just running late.

I'd collapsed in front of the television, which I was so rarely allowed to watch, and flicked it to the first channel that looked remotely interesting. _Embrace it whilst it lasts, _I had thought, _accept the consequences later._

But there hadn't been consequences, because almost two hours later, towards the end of a truly riveting documentary about penguins, still nobody was home; of course being the petty kid I was – I panicked. This was just the first time it was for good reason.

I called both parents' phones, but neither of them picked up. I asked our neighbours if they'd seen anything, but they claimed to have been out all day.

I was completely on my own.

I didn't fall asleep until 3am, which was late for a 12 year old like myself, I can assure you. I did the math; it was at least 10 hours I stayed awake losing my nerve: 10 hours of repeatedly calling my parents' phones, and considering whether on not to call the police. But I waited it out. Then I woke up 4 hours later to someone tenderly shaking my arm. "Get up, Castiel. Get up now – your brother needs you." I'd stared, confused and aggravated, at my mum for a good 15 seconds before I asked what was going on. "Gabe's ill." Is all she had said, and I found myself in the back seat driving to the hospital.

We'd arrived as he was going in for an MRI scan. The seizure that both mum and dad witnessed had lasted at least 10 minutes, way longer than an ordinary one, not that they were a frequent occurrence with us. This had been the first time.

45 minutes later when he came out I hugged him, because I didn't know what else to do. And then we were sent home with some drugs, booked hospital appointments, and hope of improvement. To be honest, we mainly left with the fear of it happening again.

For the moment that, was it. Then, a couple of less dramatic seizures and several doses of AEDs later, a now 10 year-old Gabriel was pronounced well again, if not cured.

Now that it's back, 4 years since the last… I don't know what to do with myself.

The three of us sit in a row in the waiting room, dishevelled and exhausted. I've been told by a rushed nurse that in a few minutes I'll be brought in to see Gabe's Doctor and answer a few questions. They're also trying to get in touch with our mum. _Good luck with that one_. I think.

"Cas?" I turn around to the voice, which belongs to Sam. I realise I've been staring blank at the wall for the last few minutes: thinking. Thinking about Gabe and mum and dad and how we're going to fix all this. If we ever even are.

"Yeah, sorry." I shake my hair about as if to exaggerate the new intensity of my focus.

"It's alright," he says meekly. And it's only then that I'm suddenly aware of what by brother's boyfriend has been through. (_Boyfriend… _in another situation I could imagine myself sneering at that.) For the reason that, as actual fact, I have never experienced one of Gabe's longest fits, I can't relate to the fear that must have been racing through Sam; how overcome he must have been by the threat of not knowing. For me it's not the pure terror of what's happening, but the immanent threat of what's to come, the result of this, and if he'll even make it through each one. He's strong, but a kid can only put up with so much. The doctors won't say it, but I know he's lucky he didn't go into a coma.

"I really am sorry, Sam." I blurt out.

"What? Why?" he looks confused, and… and I don't know how to explain how guilty I feel that he's been put in this situation.

I take in a lungful of air. "For this. Nobody should have to up with this kind of crap. Not Gabe, not you, me, or Dean." I look to him as I say this. "Not anyone."

"Yeah… I know." Sam slowly shrugs his shoulders, "But what are you going to do, eh?" This kid. He's too good for my brother.

And that's exactly what I say. I reach over to mess up his hair, long and light brown, unlike Dean's stubbled coffee coloured mess. Just as I do this, a nurse comes over with a clipboard.

"Castiel Novak?" He asks. I nod. "Great, I'm afraid we'll just need to get some personal details off you before you can visit your brother, if you don't mind?"

"Sure, sure, of course." I say eagerly, keen to rush through anything that will get me to Gabe slower.

He quizzes me and I answer each of the questions truthfully, although for some reason I feel like I've done something wrong. I brush the suggestion away; these nerves are really getting to me.

Okay, Mr. Novak, if you'd like to come with me." He gestures to a wide hallway, leading to one of the wards, and I rapidly start walking, already slightly behind his pace. At that moment, I hear small footsteps following me. I turn nonchalantly and see Sam striding to keep up with me.

"Sam," I frown. "I'm not sure you're allowed to come in yet… I'm really sorry, it's just the hospital has rules -"

"Sorry sir," The nurse has enigmatically appeared just behind me, and interrupted our conversation, which it appears he's also overheard. "We're really not permitted to let in non-family members on the first day of admittance. You'll have to wait a little while, but there's a fair chance you can drop in on visiting hours tomorrow."

Submissively, Sam bows his head and drags himself back to Dean. I present them with a half-hearted shrug of apology, I can't think of anything other than Gabe.

"Hey, Gabe." I smile at him, and it's not forced, since, at this moment, there is nothing much better I can imagine then seeing my only sibling alive and somewhere close to healthy. But damn it he's pale.

"Hey," Despite his lack of enthusiasm, he gives me one of his childish smirks.

"You alright there?" I drop into the chair beside his hospital bed, and try not to stare at the tubes weaving in and out of him. One is attached to a needle, slipped into a vein on his hand. I avert my eyes. _It's fine_. I tell myself. _They're here to help_.

"Yeah, I just… Oh God, Cas. I don't want to deal with this. Not again. I can't." _Neither can I. But we will, Gabe, we'll either get through it or adjust to it._

"It's all good, we can deal with this. No problem, I'll just stay home a few days before you go back to school and we'll make sure all the teachers know…" I trail off; talking out loud about everything I'm going to do to help him. It's only when Gabe pinches my arm that I snap out of it and listen to what he's trying to say.

"Sure Castiel, that's all fine, _that_ isn't the problem."

I frown, cocking my head to one side. "Then what is?"

"They've got in touch with mum."


	14. Chapter 14

**Dean's POV**

When Cas walks out of the hospital room he looks shaken up. Relieved, but still jittering from head to toe. His hair's an unintentional mess, and he clearly hasn't shaved in a few days. His jeans are gripping tight but riding low, his long sleeved navy t-shirt is undone even more, exposing a few inches of chest, and his sleeves are rolled up, playing into my muscular arm fetish which I've decided to admit to. Oh, and there's still a trace of eyeliner smudged around his eyes. A no longer glorious, but poignant blue beams out of them.

"How is he?" I ask slowly as Cas sits in the chair beside me and leans his head against the wall.

"You should go." He replies. "Thank you, Dean. You've been a huge help, nevertheless, I believe I can take responsibility from now on."

"Oh give yourself a break, man." I don't know why; I'm frustrated. When will Castiel learn to accept someone else's help for once? "And please stop being so polite, it's driving me insane."

He looks at me with turned up eyebrows, his head lolling to the side in perplexity, and I exhale.

"Jesus, just let me you help me Cas. Somebody's got to, because from what I've heard… your mum isn't going to do much." Have I gone too far? I think I've gone too far.

"I guess you're right."

"Then what? Why won't you let me do this for you? At least let me do it for Gabriel!"

Now that was too far.

Cas turns to me, his hands still clasped, his arms resting on his thighs; he glares at me. His jaw is rock solid and his eyes are filled with so much built up anger and frustration. "How exactly," He grinds his thumb into his palm. When he speaks it's a growl. "Are you going to help me, Dean Winchester?"

A part of me hates myself for what I just said, but I keep my exterior looking calm. I shrug my shoulders. "Haven't got a fucking clue."

"Guys?" Sammy. He's woken up. The kid's been up all night, frankly I'm glad he fell asleep, even if it was curled up in a decades old hospice chair.

"Sam," I try to smile but it's not paying off.

"I heard shouting…" He rubs his eyes and Cas and I render quick eye contact, making the rushed decision to keep quiet about it.

"Probably just a dream." I mutter.

"Yeah, anyway, how's Gabe?"

"Well I talked to his doctor," Cas begins, but the first nurse we saw soon interrupts him. She seems far less rushed than before, and holds out her hand, shaking our own individually.

"Hey there, I'm Ellen, I've been assigned to keep an eye on Gabriel Novak, you mind telling me which one of you boys is Castiel?" I like her; she seems friendly: Slightly aggressive, but friendly.

Cas raises up his arm just above his head, and then brings it back down. "That would be me."

"Ah, well Castiel, I've got to admit: I've ever heard a name quite like that before."

"Yeah… I'm named after Cassiel, 'Angel of solitude and tears'." He says, adding in the air quotes with his fingers sarcastically.

Ellen laughs, "So you don't like it much, eh?"

"My mum," He replies, sighing inwardly. "She was a bit of a religious nut. Named me, my brother, and any pet we ever had after angels."

"Well I named my daughter Joanna, basically because it sounded nice. Turns out it means 'Gift of God'." She snickers. "Rebellious thing, she is. 'Gift of God' my arse."

Cas and I chuckle, and Sam smiles but he's clearly not paying much attention.

"Anyway," She shakes her head. "Back to Gabriel. I'm really sorry, but now that we're certain your brother is in a stable condition, we're going to have to send you home. If there's anything you want to bring in for him you can do that tomorrow, the visiting hours are from three 'till eight. We'll also be allowing non-family members so that you," She beam's at Sammy, "Can come say hi."

At this my brothers face lights up. "Dean, can we go straight after school please? Or you could write a note about what happened, I'm sure they'll let me miss the last lesson or something…"

"You certain you want to go in? I mean, after all this? At least take one day off."

"But Dean, I have a maths competition tomorrow!"

This boy, how am I related to him. "Nerd." He grins. "We'll talk about it later, alright."

"Sure." Sam smirks. He knows he'll win, he always does.

When the nurse sees we've finished talking she starts up again. "So, I just wanted to reassure you that I'll be keeping an extra eye on Gabriel, and if anything at all happens, I swear I'll let you know immediately."

"Thank you," Cas says. "It means a lot."

"Hey there's nothing worse than staying up all night worrying about someone, is there? I like to minimize that as much as possible."

"Thanks." Sam and I say at the same time.

"No problem at all. Right, anything I should know before you boys head back?"

I look Sam and Cas beside me and they both shake their heads.

"Nah, I think we're as close as we're going to get to good." I've been putting on my polite, adult voice all day, and so have Cas and Sam.

The corners of Ellen's mouth tinge up into a sad smile. "Great, now get some sleep. Gabriel will be fine, I promise."

And with that, we gather our stuff and leave.

**Cas' POV**

"I CALL SHOTGUN!" Sam yells as he runs forward to the car, leaving Dean and myself standing alone together.

"Sorry, Cas. Looks like you're in the backseat." Dean gives me an apologetic shrug.

"Wait- you'll give me a lift back?"

"Well duh," He looks at me like I'm stupid. "How else are you going to get back?"

I glance around and realise he's right, other than a few parked cars and ambulances, there isn't a vehicle in sight. "I could get a cab?" I suggest.

"With what money?" He asks, and I give up.

"Alright then, thanks Dean."

"Not a problem, it never will be." We look at each other for a moment too long.

Dean climbs into the driver's seat, and I drag myself into the back. Sam's already sitting in shotgun, as he so kindly pointed out would happen.

"Dean?" Sam asks.

He's been sitting with the engine running, hands on the steering wheel, for a good minute, but still hasn't put the car into motion.

"Sorry, I just… wow. It's been one heck of a day. I know I don't have as much of a right as you guys, but I'm pretty goddamn fucked up."

"Yeah," Says Sam. "But lets go home now, please. Get some food, watch a bit of TV, stop thinking about it?"

"Sure." Dean smiles softly. "Thanks kid.' He ruffles Sam's hair for a second before the younger Winchester pulls away, rolling his eyes. Dean rolls his own in reply, then sets his hand back on the car's joystick, curling his fingers around it and finally driving the impala onto the road.

"You coming with us?" Sam's spun around in his seat, his chest straining against the seat belt, so he's looking at me.

"What?" I thought they'd already offered me a lift… they couldn't just make me get out of the car now, that would be rude, right?

"To stay at ours duh. You can't go back to your house without Gabriel; it would feel wrong. Stay the night at ours, we can get noodles! - Right Dean?"

All Dean's attention is on the road. "Yeah whatever."

"Yeah, we can get noodles. Then this way if anything happens to Gabe we can all go together."

"But, w-where would I sleep?"

"We've got a surprising comfy sofa."

Nope, no way. This isn't happening. It'll be weird without my brother around, but staying the night with his boyfriend and brother? Even weirder.

"Sorry Sam, that sounds nice but… I think I'd rather just head home. Sought some things out, you know?" It's a pathetic excuse, however it should work.

"You sure? It's not a problem, we could just-"

"Really, it's fine."

"Oh, okay then. Looks likes it's just you and me, Deano." He sighs and gently punches Dean's arm, who looks at him, scowls, then focuses back on driving.

Five minutes later, he looks into the rear view mirror to catch my eyes and get my attention. "So, Cas. Which way do you live?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Cas' POV**

It's not so much that our mum didn't care; she cared too much.

When Dad went missing, for the first few days she became this intelligent, badass, mastermind. She found clues everywhere, reporting them to the police and then, when they did nothing more, trying to find him herself. She even got some of the neighbours helping. There were posters everywhere about him, reaching across to the next 5 towns. Mum had interviewed his work colleagues, friends, and a couple of random people who he occasionally passed on his weekly morning runs. Everyone.

To sum it up, from the point of view of Gabriel and myself: in the beginning, it was all just one massive detective-themed game of Hide and Seek.

And then reality kicked in.

They say after 72 hours, all chances of finding missing persons are pretty much gone: cremated in one burning pile, alongside that thread of hope of the people left behind. It was like we had a 72-hour deadline, where the chances of finding him never decreased until we missed that time limit. Then they dropped so low that the consequence of not succeeding in one foolish, little task was fatal.

Once we'd surpassed that cut-off date, she lost it.

It started off with the crying. We'd hear her weeping all night, Gabe was only 10, and it terrified him. Your parents are supposed to be the strongest people you know. Nothing affects them, because they're your mum and dad, whom it had almost seemed been put onto this Earth, into these bodies, for the sole purpose of protecting us. As far as we knew, our dad was gone, so mum had to be twice as strong for us. Instead, she wasn't even half. She'd put on a brave face when she had to leave the house, but as soon as she came inside it was like the exhaustion of pretending to be all right overcame her. She would sit in silence, or preoccupy herself in tasks that she could send us away from.

I suppose, looking back, I should have seen those as the alarm bells for the next stage: isolation.

Mum went to the shops, bought us some microwave meals, and locked herself in her room - for weeks. On the odd occasion in which Gabe and I would leave the house together, we would notice small amounts of food from the kitchen missing when we got back.

Once she went 3 days without food, we'd leave meals on plates outside her room, but she'd never take them. She wouldn't risk being seen. _She's mad_, I had thought, _she's gone completely mad_.

When the neighbours asked how mum was doing, we'd shrug and make something up. It was surprisingly easy. Then we ran out of food. We begged her to come out, to help, but she wouldn't answer. So we spent our pocket money on it. But then that ran out. Soon we started getting phone calls from people, claiming that she hadn't paid her bills. It was… awful. What could we say to them? If anybody found out about her, she'd be taken away, so we tried harder: throwing any words at her that had even the slightest chance of changing her twisted mind, we begged her like the starving children that we so almost were. This time, she answered.

We woke up one morning to find her sitting at the kitchen table fully dressed, with a face full of makeup that couldn't quite hide the bags under her eyes.

She said she had made arrangements, that dad's funeral would be held next week. It was the first time I cried since dad. _They didn't find a body_, I'd protested, _there's no evidence, none! He's somewhere out there, looking for us. I know it. You can't do this, mum, you of all people... _But she could. She could organise his funeral, with sad speeches from people he barely knew. The one thing she couldn't make me do was attend it, and Gabriel stood beside me. More like behind me, actually. He was so scared of her. One night he'd whispered to me before we went to sleep: _You know she's not mum anymore, right?_

I'd pretended I was already dreaming.

4 months after dad went missing, the situation became clearer. Some parts started to make sense, or at least we came to understand a bit more about what the future would be like.

It turns out she didn't deem herself capable of being a mum any more; she knew she couldn't deal with looking after us, and she chose to give up on trying. That little plan backfired on her, though, because she couldn't bear losing us, her two ruined boys. Mum thought I could take care of Gabe by myself, and she would live with us without ever mentally being there. She worked a lot; I think it made her feel like she was accomplishing something in life. Every day and night, even to this day, she's of somewhere, paying our bills by doing God knows what. She planned to always be there on standby, though; in case anything disastrous happened – like this.

Let's all look at how that panned out. Since in the end, it didn't work. But I guess nobody really thought it would to start with. I raised Gabe for four years, and yeah, he turned out okay. Great actually, that kid's always been some sort of genius. On the other hand, though, there's me. Always worrying about something. Terrified of relationships, because I saw firsthand what happens to somebody who loses someone they love. I'm not just talking about our mum losing our dad, because we lost him too. I'm talking about me and Gabe losing mum, because I saw that coming less then what happened to our father. I never told anyone, but I knew we wouldn't find him. I knew it from day one. There are just some things you can't even admit to yourself.

So here I am now: An emotional wreck with no foreseeable career or future, just 6 words engraved into my skull.

Look out for your little brother.

**Dean's POV**

"I'm so scared for him." Says Sammy.

"Don't be." Is my simple reply. "Believe me, I spent my whole life worrying about you, and it's all probably done jack shit."

"Hey, I'm still alive." He points out. "I have food, drink and usually shelter. I'd say you're doing alright."

"Eh, anyway, just try and keep your cool. He's in the hospital where they can take best care of him, and it's just about the recovery now. There really aren't any serious threats."

Sammy frowns at me. "You've been looking into this, haven't you?"

"Course, don't want any nightmares keeping my brother up at night now, do I?"

He gives me small, slightly appreciative, slightly 'stop trying so hard' smile.

I shake my head at him, and reach for the remote to turn off the TV. It's 1am, and Sam's still insisting on going to school. "Come on man, we've watched enough Christopher Eccleston for one evening, I almost shit my pants in the _are you my mummy_ episode, what was it called? 'The Empty Child', right?" Sammy snickers at me.

"You scare way to easily, remember when we were watching-"

"Yes I _remember. _Dude, will you just shut up about that? Jump scares freak me out…"

"But it wasn't even a _jump scare_."

"Son of a bitch, Sam, you'd better shut that mouth of yours or you're not getting any mathlete competition tomorrow."

He pouts.

"Bed. Now. And come find me if you need anything." Sammy turns away and starts walking out of the room, I grab him by the arm and spin him round so he's looking at me, though there's little focus in those blue-green eyes. "I'm serious."


	16. Chapter 16

**Cas' POV**

I should be staying up all night, lying in bed or pacing my room, losing sleep over Gabe, but it's been a long day; a really long day. As soon as I hit the mattress, I'm out.

It's in the morning that I start to panic. The nurse, Ellen, was reassuring that she would be keeping an eye on Gabe and reporting if anything happened, but she could so easily have forgotten to call. She could have been issued to help another patient: something could be going horrifically wrong right now, and she wouldn't know about it, so she'd have no reason to tell me. Does she even have my phone number? I'm pretty sure I gave it to the hospital yesterday, but what if I said one of the numbers slightly incorrectly and they wrote it down wrong? Then they'd just be calling an unknown number.

So much could have gone wrong in the space of a few hours.

I make sure my phone is fully charged and the ringtone is on as loud as possibly, I'm busy trying to shove it into the pocket of the skinny jeans I'm wearing, and have been wearing since Kevin's party on Sunday night, when suddenly it goes off. I jump, because the noisiest my ringtone goes is pretty damn loud.

After a split-second of fright from the noise, the situation pummels into me like a wrecking ball to the chest, my shoulders caving in as the oxygen refusing to enter my system... The hospital. Something must have happened. I don't bother checking the caller ID before accepting the call, there's no time.

"What's going on?" I ask anxiously and desperately into the mobile, already looking for my shoes.

"Well, as coincidence has it, I was about to ask you the same thing." So Gabe wasn't lying about how hard the hospital were trying to get into contact with her.

"Hi, Mum."

"Hello, Castiel."

Now this, I should have seen this coming.

What do I say? There's too much: so many words that I can't fit into sentences, so many feelings I refuse to put into words. How do I explain everything that has taken place since the last of our irregular 'bumping into each other on the way in or out of the house' incidents?

"I got a phone call last night, saying Gabriel had a seizure. That his epilepsy is- is back… Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice is shaky, but no more so than usual.

"What's there to tell?" I mutter.

"What?"

"I said, what good would you have done knowing any sooner? Because I'm fairly sure I didn't see you at the hospital last night, driving in as soon as you got the message!"

"I… I was busy." Pathetic.

"Busy? Doing what exactly?"

"None of your business."

"Fine."

Nobody says anything for several seconds.

"Are you going to visit him?"

"I don't that would be wise…"

"Sure."

"Tell him I'm s- sorry?"

"Four years too late mum."

"Look after him, okay?"

"That's the plan." I hang up. Oh how I love the conversations we have.

To be honest I'm not usually that rude talking to her, I accepted what happened with Mum a long time ago. I'm just pissed off this time, because she should be here. This is the kind of thing she promised she would stick around for. She told us sorting out things like this are the reason she's still with us, and not time travelling through Africa.

Our mum should be sorting out the medical records and getting the house ready for Gabe to come to when he's recovered. Instead I'm going to have to claim she's too busy with work (which is somewhat true, actually) to sort things out at the hospital, and I'm going to end up missing more school to take care of him. It's the same as any other time: When I broke my arm, when Gabriel fell out of a tree, when I couldn't pee for a day. A whole freaking day! I had to have _surgery_ to fix myself up.

None of it was ever important enough, though. Looking back at things, if this isn't then nothing else will be. The only thing that could bring Mum back to us is Dad, and I gave up on that a long time ago: since day one. He's still on the missing persons list, but that doesn't mean anybody's looking.

I shouldn't tell Gabe about that phone call. It would damage him; he's always cared so much about what other people thought of him. He tries to hide it, with a smug grin and snarky comments, but it's constantly showing through the cracks. It's not like you can blame a kid for acting like that after they've lost as much as Gabe did, after what his own mother thought of him decided whether or not she would continue to raise him.

I tell myself all of this, but I know I'll still tell Gabe, because I can't stand liars: not just people who tell the straight out opposite of the truth, but those who twist it and hide it. Especially people who hide it from themselves, who think that if they stop thinking about something for long enough, it will eventually cease to exist. I hate this because eventually the people who are telling themselves these things becomes so overwhelmed by the lies, that they begin to believe them, and then they do what any ordinary human with information does. They share it.

Did I mention that I'm a massive hypocrite?

Anyway, having ensured there's still plenty of charge and the ringtone is on full, I put my phone back into my jean's pocket. It's still a few hours now until I can go in and see Gabe, and I figure I might as well shower and get changed. I put the mobile directly beside the shower cubicle, so there's no chance in missing a call, and jump under the water.

There are little patches of mud all over me from the grass beside the lake, and I abruptly notice that I still smell faintly of booze. By the time I'm finished, I sense as though my skin and hair are completely different colours from 10 minutes ago.

I figure, I'll be spending a little while hanging around in the hospital, so I choose comfier clothes: plain black and white converses, an old jumper that hangs slightly baggy on my small frame, and not utterly skin-tight jeans. It's quite cold, so I grab my burgundy beanie for when I go out. I find my other jacket, as my trench coat is still at Kevin's, and pack my bag. I'm good to go, and it's probably only a 30-minute wait now. There's no harm in getting there a little early… I check my watch; I still have another… 3 hours to wait? You're kidding me. Well, I should at least call Sam and Dean to see if they're going to see him. Maybe I could get a lift again, because the bus schedules are ridiculously inconvenient, and the cabs cost way out of my price range.

I grab my mobile, about to type in one of the Winchester's details, when I'm caught off-guard once again by it's irritating ringing.

This time I do check to caller ID, and I'm grateful for it, because just like earlier, it's not the hospital.

_'__Charlie Bradbury' _The screen reads. Crap. I'd completely forgotten about her. She should know what's gone on, she would want to.

I accept the call.

"Hello, Charlie."

"Hey. Sorry Cas, sup? I mean, you're not at school, and you're hardly the bunking off type, so I assumed you were ill. But then I went to find Media studies, and saw that Dean isn't in lessons either. I went to ask Gabriel why you weren't here, and turns out he's not at school. But just wait for this massive plot twist, Cas. …Sam isn't in either!" She says sarcastically, but still friendly. I even sense a touch of anxiety from her about what the heck is going on.

"Yeah… about that – wait? How are you talking to me?"

I can practically hear her rolling her eyes at me. "It's lunchtime you dweeb."

"Oh."

"Well hurry and explain what's up then."

"Oh, right, so… Um." I breathe the words, simultaneously pulling at a chunk of my tousled hair. "Gabriel had another s- seizure."

I've been friends with Charlie since we started high school; we both just sort of found each other. She was there through all the shit involving my Mum and Dad, and though we weren't all that close when we it started; she was there for me when everything first happened with Gabe. To be honest, I was such a wreck, and I still am, that I'm surprised she's stuck around this long. The good thing about it is she knows just as much as I do about his epilepsy, the health requirements, and how I'm going to need a mum to deal with the more business side of things.

"We'll deal with it: you, Gabe and me. And Sam and Dean from the looks of it. We'll get through this. Don't worry, Dean." How she thinks of these things, just like that, I don't know – but they sure as hell work with me. After a 40-minute conversation, Charlie has to hang up to go to some 'IT' discussion thing. "I would come straight to your house now," She says, "But this guy's coming in especially to talk to me about what I need to do to get a job at some fancy place like Google, and my mum would get _mad_ if I missed it." We arrange to meet up in the evening.

Before I can call Dean to ask for a lift, he phones up and offers me one, he's even going to come by my house and pick me up, half-an-hour before we actually need to be leaving. That's great, I want to see him the second the visiting gates open.

I heave a sigh of relief; the last hour has taken some of the tension off of my chest and thrown a dose of sense back into my brain.


	17. Chapter 17

**Dean's POV**

Sammy didn't go into school today. He only slept for an hour the day before yesterday to compensate for an entire night of no sleep, and he barely managed 5 hours of shut eye last night. He got up for school, wandering downstairs in his pyjamas to get breakfast; when I saw the state of him I sent the kid straight back to bed. And they say I'm not father material. All I knew was that he sure as hell wasn't winning any maths contests if he felt anything like he looked.

So Sam ended up getting up properly at midday, slightly pissed off at me for sending him to sleep, but too stressed out about Gabriel to care.

He tried to do some homework, but after half an hour he gave up, he couldn't concentrate on anything. We ended up watching the next episode of Doctor Who, neither of us watching much, paying just enough attention to not get lost in our thoughts, and then driving to Cas'.

It's a pretty quiet trip, I put on Metallica, but it's one of their acoustic songs. There's barely any traffic, and we get there before the song is over.

"Don't worry about this, Sam. I'm sure Gabe will be fine now, and you're gonna get to see him. I don't really know much about this stuff, but there isn't much treatment for epilepsy, so for all we know he could be out tonight. I try a smile, which he subtly returns. I nudge his arm as I climb out of the car. "Stay here, I'll go get Cas."

I ring the bell and the door's open in seconds. Cas looks cleaned up, in fresh jeans, a cute jumper and beanie hanging inadvertently fashionably on his head. He's got a coat in his hand, and before I can say a word the door's closed again and we're walking back to the impala.

"Thank you again, Dean. I looked up the bus times, but there isn't one leaving that goes to Mercy Hospital until 4."

"No worries, man." I whack his shoulder, "Now go sit in the backseat. It doesn't look like Sammy's giving up his own anytime soon."

**Cas' POV**

I don't know much about cars, but you only need common sense to see that Dean's is beautiful.

The seats are made of this cream leather that looks somewhere between new and retro, somehow soft to the touch. I slouch back into it.

"You okay there, Cas?" Dean laughs. My eyes are just high enough to see through the window, we're stuck at traffic lights.

"I could lay here forever…"

"Well don't, sit up and put your seatbelt on."

"Hypocrite."

"I think you'll find that I am the driver. And not only do I pick the music," He nods towards the small tape deck, "but I pick the rules."

We all laugh; it's the happiest we've collectively been for a good 24 hours. Dean looks at me again, with a smirk.

"Seatbelt, now."

I slither back up the seat and strap myself in.

The traffic lights turn to amber, and then green, and Dean shoots off - following the signs to the hospital. I sometimes forget he's only been here a few months, he's such an ordinary part of my life now, or he was. I was used to him being there and me pushing him away… and then there was the kiss. So much has happened since then, but I'd be lying if I said I haven't been thinking about it.

He didn't want it, or at least he didn't mean for it to occur. That much was obvious after he ran away the next morning.

So I've been trying to ignore it. But it's hard, because now he's so involved with Gabe and Sam, I can't shove him out of my life, we both care too much. He doesn't hate me, I'm not that stupid, but he doesn't like me in the way I want him to. That's wishful thinking.

Therefore I'll do what I do best: block it out. Focus on what's important.

The next time I look out the car window, we're pulling into the hospital driveway.

"Well I was reading a web page about epilepsy, and it looks like you're lucky you didn't piss yourself during the seizure." I give Gabe the thumbs up and a massive grin. He groans at me. "Anyway, Sam's here."

"Wait, really?"

"Well duh, I mean he'd be a kind of pathetic boyfriend if he wasn't. He did stay up in the waiting room all night for you."

"Sam did that?"

"Yeah, didn't I tell you any of this yesterday?" I could've sworn I did.

"Uhhh… No, Castiel. No you didn't." Oops.

"God, I'm sorry. It was a long night."

"Don't worry about it, I'm assuming he wasn't allowed in because he's not family?"

"Smartass."

"Like you didn't already know it."

"True."

"So will they let him in now?"

"Huh?"

"Sam. Will they let him in?"

"Oh right yeah, I just asked for 5 minutes alone to check in on you."

"Well it's been," Gabe glances at the clock on the wall, "At least 15, so can I see him now?"

"Freaking teenagers and their hormones." I mutter, getting up and walking to the door.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that!"

"Go ahead, assbutt."

"Just get out of my room already, it's impolite."

"And you're an assbutt."

"Go."

"Fine."

I pull the handle with a slam, but it's all for comedic purpose.

"Hey, Sam." I nod at the Winchester sitting on a chair outside the room. "I think Gabe wants to see you."

He raises his eyebrows, his eyes lighting up his entire face. It's like he really thought he'd never get to see Gabriel again.

"Thanks, Cas." And he runs from me, in to finally meet the child who is both his boyfriend and my brother.

I watch through a small window in the door as Sam and Gabe laugh and smile at each other, way too happy for what's going on. Dean's brother sits on the end of the bed, doing most of the talking. I can't hear the words but I can tell when either of them cracks a joke, or says something serious. After a few minutes Sam has slowly shuffled his way next to Gabe, and his head rests against Gabriel's shoulder, who leans in to the touch.

All of a sudden I feel a warmth behind me, and hot air in my ear. I realise Dean's on his tiptoes, trying to see through the window, which I'm hogging.

"You know, Cas, we may need to state an intervention soon."

"What, why?" I can hear him sneering.

"Those guys are way too in love."

"Hi there, we've talked to your mum on the phone, and we understand that she's too busy to come in. She instructed me to tell you the basic info, and I'm going to find you the reports with all the additional information you'll need, specific to Gabriel's condition." Say's Gabe's doctor, whose introduced herself as 'Doctor Campbell'. Sam's left the dorm and the doctor and I have entered.

"Okay, great, thanks." I say.

"No problem. So, lets begin: Gabriel, we don't know how serious this is;" She starts. "Hopefully, you shouldn't experience any other seizures for a few months, possibly even years. You appear to experience these fits for a slightly longer time than is normal, and on a somewhat stronger level, so you'll have to come into the hospital if you do have one, unlike your previous records, where I can see there weren't any issues with dealing with the small side affects of each attack at home." In a way, I'm glad he'll have to come into the hospital for any other seizures. If I screwed something up during his convalescence, I wouldn't forgive myself. "We'll be putting you back on some medication too, but nothing with any intense side effects, just the occasional drowsiness." I nod at Doctor Campbell, who's turned to me to make certain I'm absorbing this information too.

"Given the situation, Gabriel," She smiles, facing my brother again. "You'll have to miss school for the next few days, but otherwise… it looks like you're going home."


	18. Chapter 18

**Cas' POV**

"Home, there's nothing like it." I dump my bag in the hallway, whilst Gabriel drops himself onto the sofa, his legs are already spread over the remaining space and the arm which isn't placed pretentiously behind his head dangles off the edge.

"Give me a TV series, and I am totally gonna binge watch it for the next week. Also, there is absolutely nothing you can do about it, because it is _Doctor's orders_ that I must relax."

"Ugh, honestly, you can do whatever you like. Just don't get used to it."

"What? Don't say that, dude. It's no fun if you actually let me curl up in my little ball of procrastination without any complaints."

I snigger, that was a pretty fair description of my little brother's life in a nutshell. "Alright, take the bins out every single day for a week."

"You know what, I take back every joke you made that I didn't laugh at, because you are _hilarious_."

I can't help but grin, teeth and gums, at the image he brings to my head.

"What?"

"Well, it's just... speaking of hilarious," I point at him. "Your face when they said you'd have to leave the hospital in a wheelchair was utterly priceless."

"But what were they thinking?! I can walk perfectly fine, thank you."

"Don't want to break the rules now though, do we, trickster?"

"May I just say that that is still the greatest nickname of all time. I can't believe you couldn't get all my friends at middle school to call me that."

"Being a reckless bastard is nothing to be proud of." I reply, now shaking my finger at him sarcastically.

"Walking isn't reckless though, most people would jump at the chance of getting places without exercise. Good thing I'm not most people," He puffs out his chest proudly.

"You can act the hero all you like Gabe, but in reality it was plain adorable."

"It was humiliating."

"Aw, isn't my baby brother such a l'il cutie." I mock him and he groans in retort. "Anyway, what do you want for dinner? Acknowledge now that I'm not prepared to make anything more complicated than soup."

"Beans on toast?"

I consider it for a moment, "Yeah, sure."

I walk into the kitchen to get the food ready, and stop in my tracks. There's a women sitting at the table. A black curtain of hair cascades over her shoulders, and her blue eyes stare into my own. I've always looked so much like her, there's never been any doubt that she's my mother.

"Castiel,"

"What are you doing here?" It's a very good question. She should be in and out, not sitting with a cup of coffee in her hands like she owns the joint. Well, she does, but she sure as hell doesn't run it.

"Shh!" She hisses, like it's some sort of nervous tick. "Gabe can't know I'm here."

"Calm down, he's just watching TV... And please, don't call him that. Ever."

"What?"

"Gabe. It makes it sound like you actually know him."

"Of course I _know_ him. He's my son." No you don't, you freaking liar.

"Not anymore."

"Castiel listen to your mother!" It's one of those aggressive, shouting whispers.

"Not anymore." I say under my breathe, and she eyes me with distaste. "Fine, what is it? Why are you here?"

"It's Ch-Chuck."

"What about him?"

"I think I've found him. A-and I mean it this time." Freaking. Liar.

"_No mum._ I told you do stop doing this. He's gone. I don't care how similar dad and some guy on the streets looked - It's _not_ him."

"But it is. And I didn't see him."

"Oh great, did some homeless guys say he bumped into him at the shelter? Or the soup kitchen?"

"Well since you mentioned it, he was homeless. M-M-M-Metatron, he called himself. It's an angel's name, he must be a good man."

"Oh fantastic, another of your angels."

"He knew my name. He said he's a friend of dad's."

"Well he's _lying_." Just like you, all the time.

"Then how did he know my name?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Suddenly I burst. All of this anger. How can she do this to us? How can she do this to us again? "ALL HE IS IS SOME GUY WHO SAVED ONE OF THE MISSING POSTERS FROM WHEN WE LOST DAD. SO WILL YOU STOP TRYING TO MAKE US LOSE HIM ALL OVER AGAIN?"

"BUT WHAT IF HE'S TELLING THE TRUTH?" She yells back. "Do you not _want_ Chuck back?"

"Not if it means having to live in fucking harmony with you."

My words are met with a snarl. "Wow, that's real MATURE of you Castiel!" Her arms flail at me, like a threat. I'm momentarily intimidated by it, until I realise my own are up in her face, gesturing aggressively with each word I bellow.

"Oh shut up. JUST SHUT UP! Like you know a single thing about what that word even means! Mature isn't abandoning your kids because it's too much effort!"

"You told me you could look after Gabriel!"

"I was _fourteen_."

A timid voice emerges from behind me. "Mum?"

"GO AWAY GABRIEL." We shout at him, completely in sync.

"Oh God," I lower my voice, falling into one of the kitchen chairs, clasping my hands around its arms. "I'm turning into you."

"Stop being so melodramatic."

I face Gabriel. "Please... go to your room for a bit."

"You know, he was my dad too. Don't I get a say in this?"

"There _is_ nothing to say. Dad's not here, Meyron's-"

"Metatron." Mum corrects.

"_Metatron_ is developing some sort of scheme to get money out of us. In fact, this conversation is over."

I stride out of the room, pulling Gabe along with me.

We wind up in my bedroom, him perched on the edge of the bed, myself in the seat at the desk.

"Listen, Cas."

"Yeah?"

"No, actually listen."

"I will?"

"You're not going to like this but…"

Goddammit Gabriel, "What is it?"

"Maybe it's worth following up on what mum was talking about, to make-"

"-But you heard"

"Listen to me. This is what I'm talking about, as soon as something goes against what you think, you won't even pay attention to the rest of the argument."

"I…" I don't have an argument, that's what. Why does he always have to be right about me?

"The guy knew her name, Castiel. We didn't put that on the missing posters. And what do we have to lose? Jeez, I know it's a long shot, but it's better than nothing, okay? So can we work with it, just this once?"

And damn us all if he was ever wrong about anything.

"Just this once." I say meekly.


	19. Chapter 19

**Cas' POV**

She doesn't stay for long afterwards.

I tell Mum we'll help her, and she gives a nod of approval, as if she knew I would oblige all along. Next thing I know she's off again, to work, to drink, or to pass out in a ditch… the things that have happened these last couple of days, the thought of her like that hardly bothers me any more.

Just a few more days and Gabriel goes back to school, so I've planned my time out. Every minute of everyday selected to complete some sort of task, whether it's cleaning the dishes or hunting for a dead father. Most of the time I've dedicated to looking after Gabe though, I won't let even mum take me from that.

_Four days, _I hum to myself. Four days until Gabe and I go back to school, and the search for dad finishes, or is at least prolonged.

_No problem._ I lie.

With Gabe out of the house for the first time since the attack, I find myself somewhat… bored. It's so easy telling myself that I'm being productive when I'm looking after him, but whilst he's gone I have a lack of purpose, and I know I can't read forever. I decide to close the book, and switch on the Xbox I share with Gabriel. Both the games and the console are outdated, but it's not like we can afford a new one - this was second hand as it is. I wander to the shelf and out of nowhere I jump. A ring echoes through the house - the doorbell. I gingerly walk over to answer it, pondering why Gabe is back so early. Unless it's not Gabe.

My eyebrows shoot up as I see who the 'visitor' really is. Because honestly, who else would I find casually leaning against my doorframe, one leg holding him steadily on the wall, eyes gleaming… in the middle of a school day... other than Dean Winchester.

"I- uh- Dean?" Dumbstruck as to why he's here, I frown, already trying to ignore the pretentiously upturned collar of his leather jacket that only sharpens the outline of his jaw.

"Hey, Cas." He's not smiling, not really. "I wanted to say hi. Though maybe we could hang for a bit? I don't know, Sam said Gabe was at some tutor thing and I felt like a bit of a road trip." His eyes… they're wet, on the brink of tears? Dean doesn't cry.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, course I am."

I frown again "No, Dean. No you're not."

"It's just been a long week, alright?"

"You're lying to me."

"Dammit, can't get anything past you, can I?" He rubs his eyes with the palm of his hands before the first drops fall, giving one sharp sniff as he pulls himself up off the doorframe and into a standing position. I still find myself straining not to stare at the flex of the muscles in his arm as he runs his fingers through his hair.

"I... What happened?"

He ignores the question. "You gonna take me up on that road trip?"

It's hard to think of an eventuality where I could even consider saying no. "When are we leaving?"

He still doesn't smile, but it looks like he's trying. Trying to be happy, whether it's for me or for him.

"How soon can we?" I'm usually so organised. Everything has to have a time and a place, a purpose and an outcome, but all of these things are drowned out by the idea of an entire day, driving nowhere with Dean. It's not like I'm doing so great myself, either. The stuff about dad has really screwed me up, but I reckon I'll be able to finally come to a viewpoint when it's over - whether we find him or not. Personally I don't think we stand a chance: I just want it to be over.

"Now. Just let me get my coat…" I almost don't even stop to ask why. Almost. Turning around, just before starting my way up the stairs, I look him in the eyes, dead on, with an urge he might even confuse with confidence. "Why me?"

The question doesn't puzzle him; he merely meets my gaze, speaking in a flat voice. "Who else?"

"November 2nd, November 2nd, November 2nd." He whispers the words over and over again, sitting on my doorstep, unaware that I'm standing barely a meter behind him. "November 2nd, November 2nd, November 2nd…" He trails off when he cocks his head round to see me waiting, probably looking confused, maybe pitiful. It's the worst feeling to know you're being pitied, so I blink a few times until my face looks somewhat expressionless.

"Dean?" He nods, timidly so for someone who usually looks so rough and intimidating. "What happened on November 2nd?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He starts shaking his head and all I can think is_ don't cry, please don't cry, _because if he does then all I'll want to do is hold him until he stops. I refuse to let either of us go through the consequences of that again, but oh, God, do I want to make him better.

There's only one word I can even think of right now: "Why?" And that's just it, he's been nothing but good to me, and I've been nothing but awful to him, so why is he apologizing to me when I should be on my knees begging for _his_ forgiveness?

"I shouldn't be here, Cas, I'm so sorry."

"What happened on November 2nd?"

"It's been 14 years, Goddammit. Shouldn't I be over it by now?"

"Dean! What are you _talking_ about?" He tries to stand and stumbles, pulling his hands from his face; I see his cheeks streaked with tears. It takes less than a millisecond for me to notice his knees buckle, and what else can I do but catch him before he falls?

I leap forwards, catching his arm over my shoulders and heaving the weight that he can no longer carry. With my free hand I slam the front door shut, ignoring the rattles it sends through the house, and walk Dean to the front room. He's found his footing now, with a little nudge I make him sit on the couch, and in one swift, ungraceful movement, he drops himself down.

I sit too, and the old springs creak beneath our combined weight. The cushion beneath us sinks and I'm ever so slightly slid towards him; we're now less than a foot apart.

Dean's hands hangs between his legs, and he clasps them tightly together for a second, before pulling the sleeves of his black hoodie from under his iconic mud coloured leather jacket and wiping his face, which is now painted with new tears.

"My Mum-" His voice cracks and he gulps down the torrent. "The fire…" Dean glances at me, eyes skittering all over my face, but never meeting my own two glassy sapphires. I nod, because I remember. It's only a vague memory, but how could I forget?

Today's the day she burnt.

"It's okay dean," I whisper, "it's gonna be okay."

"I know." He replies, and curls his feet up onto the couch, turning to rest his head on my lap.


	20. Chapter 20

**Dean's POV**

"What did you mean, when you said 'who else'?" He sounds almost as if he's talking to himself.

"When I said what?" I question into the grey faded jeans my head's still pressed against.

"Before: I asked you _why me. _I asked why, of all people, you chose to come to me... and you said _who else_. What does that mean?"

"I don't have anyone, Cas. Just Sammy. You know how it is with my family, our dad isn't around. He moves us to a place, cooks us dinner, disappears for a few weeks, then returns with a new set of dodgy credit cards and the keys to a house on the other side of the state. Ever since mum…" I stifle back the tears, afraid to blink less they fall. _Pull your shit together, Dean Winchester. _"It's just been me and Sam. But he has his own grieving process."

I turn around, shifting until I'm facing Cas' stomach.

"To be honest, he misses her, but…. I guess he never really knew her. He misses the image of her, the idea of a perfect mum who could put an end to all of this." I gesture as to what 'this' is with my hands, however, momentarily forgetting the way I'm twisted into Cas' lap, I brush his… well…

We both freeze for a moment, a thousand thoughts rushing through my head before I can even begin to wonder what must be going through his, and I make the unsubtle decision to carry on as if it didn't happen. I wonder if your cheeks blush red the same way when you're aroused as when you're upset, because I'd really like to be covering up one of those emotions right now.

"So yeah, I have friends. Charlie, Crowley, Kevin, Tessa, a bunch of jocks who think I'm cool because I can play football and get girls, but none of them… I just don't trust them. I mean, I trust Charlie, but she's not very…" I reach for the right word.

"Sensitive?" Cas asks.

"Yeah, kind of."

"So why do you trust me then? I'm sorry, Dean, I just don't understand."

"Because I like you, goddammit. I- I don't know if I trust you or not, but I've got a feeling that even if I didn't I'd end up here anyway." Our eyes are locked, and my words are less muffled now that they aren't being spoken into fabric.

"Okay."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, I just, yeah."

We sit in silence a minute or two, my head buried into his shirt this time.

My mind's on Cas for a bit… It's not like I forgot that this is the room where we kissed. It seems like so long ago now, like it never really happened. I have to keep telling myself it didn't; I can't let Cas know how much I care. So I stop thinking about it, because the more I think about it, the more it hurts, but if I'm not training my thoughts on something else... They start crawling back to my mum, and all I can see is her, in the corner of Sammy's nursery, a bed of fire between us. And then I hear the screaming: her's out of pain, and dad's aimed at me, telling me to do something that my four year old mind can hardly understand. Suddenly there's a rush of something on me, and I realise it's the heat from the flames, engulfing me until- something changes: A subtle difference pulling me back into it. Whatever 'it' is.

It takes me a few seconds, and then I figure it out. This thing that's changed… it's Cas, and his fingers twirling through my short spikes of hair.

"Talk to me." My voice is low and rasping.

"Hmm?" He hums in reply.

"Please, just talk to me, say something, anything. I'm sorry Cas, I'm so sorry I came to you and you can kick me out any time, but if I'm gonna be here then _please_ can you say something to help me take my mind off of her."

"W-what do you want me to talk about?"

"Anything. Come on man, anything. Don't you wanna tell me all about yourself before I go?"

"Sure but- Wait. What do you mean before you go?"

"Before I move away." I look at him inquisitively. "I'm not gonna be here forever, Cas. Gabe told you how me and Sammy's lives work. Our dad takes us from town to town, city to city, state to state. We rarely stay anyway longer than a month, it's a miracle we've been here this long."

"Wait, so you're just going to… leave?"

"Yeah, I mean, we haven't got much other choice, have we?"

"I…"

"It's not like I haven't thought about it. I like it here, and Sam _really_ likes it here. I'm technically an adult, so I could get my own place: Stay. I could finish my exams, get a job, but I could never leave Sammy. I mean, he's my little brother. If I'm going to leave him with anyone, it won't ever be John Winchester."

"But if you're an adult," Cas suggests, "couldn't you get custody over Sam?"

If I were in a better mood I could laugh at such an idea. "I wish, Cas, I wish. But imagine all the trials I'd have to go through to get him. If dad didn't get arrested for terrible parenting, he'd be behind bars for all his countless credit card scams and frauds. Us Winchesters tend to stay away from the authorities."

"So you're going to take off? I- I won't ever see you again. Gabe and Sam will have to say goodbye?"

"Yeah." I sigh, pushing my head onto his abdomen and curling closer, painfully aware of his fingers in my hair.

"I'll miss you," he whispers, and I swear something jolts inside of me.

"I'll miss you too."

"So, should I talk now?"

"Tell me about yourself." I look at him one more time before shutting my eyelids. "Tell me everything."

Still his fingertips claw at the mess I call hair.

"20th of August, 18 years ago, I was born. Around 4 years later, so was Gabriel." I feel his eyes on me, asking if he's doing it right. I don't respond. "We grew up here, in this ordinary town, and eventually I went to middle school. I don't remember much before then, actually. It's all a blur of Gabe and a happy family. We were too happy, to be honest, like we always had this coming.

"On the third or fourth day of school, I met Charlie. She saw me reading, and decided to butt in and tell me her exact, and extremely judgmental, opinion on the story. I still can't remember what book it was though; I suppose it should have some kind of sentimental value tied in with it now. Anyway, it turns out she made a really good point on some sort of plot flaw, and I couldn't help but find her again to talk about it. God, I was such a nerd back then. I even wore these lame reading glasses." He pauses for a small, self-deprecating laugh. "I wasn't even a nerd in the clever sense, though. I got through classes fine, but I didn't sit at the front, or answer all the teacher's questions… Yeah, anyway."

His voice is low and rasping, I'd pass out if it went any lower, and I know it can.

"So I met Charlie, and we just kind of clicked. She's the reason I got into things like Lord of The Rings, Harry Potter, and all this stuff. It made her overjoyed, so I thought I might as well get in on some of the action. I'm not as big a fan of it as her, clearly, but it's nice and simple. They're beautiful worlds to get lost in, and I've always liked books more than films. I can't concentrate on anything long enough to watch a movie, but with books it's like if you're already in the world, then you don't need the willpower to stay in, you only need enough willpower to get out."

I can feel him breathing in against my cheek. "And then this one time Charlie's parents got into a car crash, and they made it out alive with only minor injuries or whatever, but it scared the shit out of her, and me too. I was meant to meet up with her after we got back from the hospital last week, actually, but it was all too much. I couldn't. She's come over a couple times though, Gabe doesn't mind her, they get on alright, but she has some great opportunities at the moment and I don't want to be the reason she misses them. Dammit, you know Charlie, Dean. She's a freaking genius." He shakes his head slightly. "But yeah, so less than a year later, Gabe had his first…" Cas trails off. "...You know. And we got over that, but then another two years later, and dad goes missing. We didn't find him, obviously. So then my mum went kind of mad, and a whole load of crap happened, which ended with me looking after Gabriel, and mum occasionally visiting. I've been looking after him since he was 14."

Neither of us says anything, after 30 odd seconds I think he realises he ended the cliffhanger on the topic of his mum. He becomes aware of what that's doing to me. "Then what?" I ask, unmoving.

"I… Then I met you." And the words are so elementary, so seemingly unimportant, but he says them like they mean so much. Because just now his mind must have gone through 4 years of his life, and the most eventful thing he could bring himself to think of was meeting me. He probably only said it because I'm here, because it matters to me, but I don't reckon he understands quite how much.


	21. Chapter 21

**Dean's POV**

"And then you met me…" Cas can't see my face, but I'm smiling. It's not forced, either; this is the reason I came to him. Only Castiel could make me smile without trying, make me feel worth something, whether he thinks I am or not. This is why I chose him, and why every day I'm still here in this typical, American town, I will continue to choose him. "Tell me about that day Cas, that time we came round to dinner. We were so fucking civilised it was ridiculous, because it was meant to be all 'meet the parents', but our parents are either dead, missing, or deserted us." Silence. Utter silence. "I'm sorry Cas, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that. It-"

"It's fine."

"No it's not, look, I'm sorry. Just because of what happened to my parents doesn't mean I can talk shit about yours."

Cas still doesn't reply, not for a few seconds. "...My dad." He stutters. "My mum thinks she found him, and I know she hasn't, because if he was alive he would have come to us by now, but she thinks she has. I don't think I can deal with it again."

"Again?"

"She's done this before, twice, actually. And then there are the countless times she thought she saw him in a crowd and would drag us through a stream of people just to stare bug-eyed at some stranger with a similar hair style."

"So if you're so sure it's not him," I roll onto my back, and stare up at the ceiling. I've stopped crying, and I'm tenacious not to start again. "Why are you helping?"

"Gabriel. He said we should. It's not just that I can't say no to those annoying puppy-dog eyes, but he made a good point. Not a great one actually, but good enough. And I take that back, I really can't say no to him with that face. His argument was pathetic, but there's always a chance and I don't want to be the reason we miss it."

"Makes sense." I answer, because there's not much more to it than that. It's such a mad situation, the kind you watch movies about, or in Cas' case, read in books. "I think you're making the right decision, if it means anything."

"It does."

I blink a couple times. "Thanks, Cas. Thanks for everything."

I wonder if he's scared I'm trying to tell him something. He knows I'm into guys, and he knows I know that he is too. No sane guy comes sobbing to your house, and ends up curled onto you like a child to their second favourite toy: their love in demand of consent. Yet I can't help but also wonder if he's thinking anything else. I know what it's like to have someone resting on you, when you're terrified to even move because you think it will make them feel unwelcome, but in reality you never want them to leave. I've had tongues down my throat and hands on my waist and people inside of me, but I've never felt more loved than those few times when someone's leaning on you like they trust you to help them with the crap that they're going through.

Scratch that - it's too goddamn soppy. It's like they don't give a shit about anyone else, and they're so paranoid about losing you that they tell themselves it's inevitable.

I notice he's stopped playing with my hair, and that's it. I tell myself that that's his way of saying I'm not welcome anymore. _I'm so paranoid about losing him, that I've convinced myself it's inevitable. _It's comedic, given that I'll be leaving him anyway, and arrogant, given that I never had him in the first place.

So I accept that it's over, and I pull myself up into a sitting position. I don't want it to be over, though. Not yet.

"You know, this is the second time I've come crying round to your house." I mutter, slightly ashamed at my vulnerability.

Cas shrugs. "Well I guess you owe me big now. Maybe next time it will be me."

"No, you're too organised for that shit."

"Well I guess we'll see, we always have the anniversary of the day my dad went missing."

"Wow, dark humour Cas. I've come to realise that that might be your strong point."

He shrugs his shoulders again, but seemingly more relaxed than before.

And then a thought pops into my head. "What do you like about reading?" I ask.

Cocking his head to the side, Cas looks at me, trying to figure out why I asked that particular question. "It's another world." He says it so painfully simply. "No matter what's happening, there's always somewhere else you can go. They're recyclable galaxies, because you read it, and you love it, and then it's over, but once you've finished it, you can give it to someone else, and it will help them, but in a different way to how it helped you. Glass is re-shaped, and stories are retold. No two people interpret a book in the same way. Unless, that is, you believe in soulmates." Cas smiles fondly to himself.

"Do you?" I can't help but ask.

"What?"

"Believe in soulmates."

"No." His answer is abrupt, and I don't push it any further. Just another strange part of a beautiful man. "Why don't you read then, Dean?" He seems merely curious, not judgemental or demanding.

"I…" I don't want to tell him why. It's always been a weak spot for me, and I don't know why. It barely even affects me, I mean, I try, but when you move around as much as I do, schoolwork is pointless. There's no use in getting support for it when you're going to be gone before the second appointment.

"Are you dyslexic?"

I spin my head round to him, and I'm not angry, I just… How did he know?

"Sorry, it's just that you act like you want to read, but can't, and I thought maybe-"

"You're right." I purse my lips.

"I'm sorry…" He says again, guilt framing his words.

"You don't need to be, Cas. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Neither do you, you know."

"Of course I do." Is he mad? Look at all the stuff I'm putting him through, he doesn't deserve any of this, he has enough unfair shit going on in his own life as it is.

"But I want you here, Dean. Why don't you get that? I couldn't just leave you, not on a day like today, not after everything you've been through and everything you've done to help Gabriel."

"I don't deserve you." I whisper, and I pray to God he doesn't hear me.

All these things, my mum, being bi, dyslexia… I've never told anyone before. What is it about Cas? I want to tell him everything about myself, and the part of me that's afraid of judgement dissolves when he's around. Not because I don't care what he thinks, but because I know he won't care. On second thought, that's not completely true. I'm scared of him judging me on how I feel about him. Because I'm not only terrified that he'll find out, but that if he does he'll reject me. It's strange, spending so much of your life surrounded by these popular girls always throwing themselves at you, to the point where that's what you call normal, and then meeting someone who… They screw up your perception of everything. What was real is now fake, what was ordinary seems wrong, and what you wanted before was nothing compared to what you find yourself silently begging for now. It was never my plan to fall for Cas, but at some point I looked at him, and I chose not to look back. I'm still falling, because that's what it is, right? Falling in love. But the fall is the journey and love is the destination, and I wouldn't call this love. Because if it was, wouldn't he show some sort of attachment back? So here I am, falling, just waiting for the crash.

"What's it like?" Cas asks, oblivious to my trance.

I inhale, filling my lungs with the sunlit room's crisp air before I answer, as if a minor learning disability is anything next to the thoughts on my mind.


	22. Chapter 22

**Cas' POV**

"Sammy would always try to get me into books, but I just couldn't." Dean says. "When I was about 15 we were at this school and the teacher got me to read a paragraph out loud and I just couldn't. When I try and read anything, the sentences don't make sense, it's like some of the words are randomly taken out, and then the ones remaining are mixed up, so they're in the complete wrong order. And then everything just sort of starts vibrating, and I don't see any point in doing anything but giving up. _Nothing makes sense. _So of course she got all angry at me, saying I was lazy and slacking off, but then she made me read some stuff in detention after school, and kind of put two and two together or something and sent me to this weird ass office where an old dude gave me some small tests and then said I was dyslexic.

"But knowing I am ain't really helping much. I mean, it's just an excuse I use if I'm in a class and don't want to do the work, right? The only part that really pisses me off is that I can't properly read books. I always called Sammy a nerd, and he sure is, but I kind of want to know what it would be like. But you know my type, man." He does something that I can't quite categorise as a grimace or a smirk. "I'd probably hate it anyway."

"Has anyone ever read to you?"

Dean replies with a slightly puzzled look. "Um, I guess my mum did when I was little." I see him gulp at the mention of her. "Why?" He's leaning against the side of the couch now, and I miss the warmth of him. I shouldn't have even thought about touching his hair, but it was screaming at me to me stroked and combed and rifled through. Shame about my whole 'lack of control' thing.

"I don't know," There's a dangerous notion playing a risky game of baseball in my mind. "I just thought, if we're not going on that road trip… maybe I could read to you?" Strike one.

He blinks a few times, and just when I'm about to laugh it off and pretend it was a joke, because how could I have been _stupid_ enough to even suggest that, he answers.

"You would do that?"

"Of- Of course." Strike two.

Please don't be messing with me, Dean Winchester.

He rubs the palm of his hand with his thumb. "Jesus, Cas. I would love that."

I stutter.

Homerun.

"What do you want to read, then?" I ask, despite the fact that I already know just the book I intend on presenting.

"Your favourite." We're sitting on the same sofa, but given how close we just were, it's like a stretch of land has evolved between us.

"I don't have a favourite… but I think I have one in mind."

"Would I like it? What's it about?"

"Yeah," I smile fondly at Dean. "I reckon it's your kind of book, there are dragons, goblins, dwarves and wizards, a humble protagonist who develops into a warrior. Hey, there's even a magical ring."

He narrows his eyes, "Is it Lord of The Rings?"

"Close," I feel the corner of my mouth tug up, my resulting smirk completely unintentional. "J. R. R. Tolkien, The Hobbit."

"Oh yeah, I think Sammy likes that one too!"

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, I stand up, my legs weak from sitting so still. "I'll go get it, then." I tell Dean, and walk away as he makes an attempt to smile back.

Trudging up the stairs, I try not to think about Dean's head on me, his soft words taking control over his aggressive looks, his hands fidgeting with the cuff of his hoodie… All these things I try not to notice, but are impossible to miss. I try not to imagine kissing him senseless to make him stop thinking about his shithole of a life, and stop expecting me to be able to help it.

I reach my bedroom door and open it, immediately making my way towards the bookshelf that takes up the majority of the room. Scanning the books, until my eyes land on the small section dedicated to J.R.R. Tolkien, I frown. I don't have many books by him, but The Hobbit always goes first, before the Lord of The Rings trilogy, The Silmarillion, and Unfinished Tales. It's in alphabetic order; it's not that difficult to manage. But, as good luck would have it, I can't see the book anywhere. I scan the shelves again, though I know I wouldn't have misplaced it.

So if it were not on the bookshelf, it would be… Oh yeah, I was reading it last night. Again. Turning around, I kneel on my bed and reach over to my bedside table. The ageing mattress creeks beneath my weight, and in one swift movement I snatch the book from the wood, only to feel a shadow hovering by the door.

Dean smiles at me sheepishly. "Sorry, I just went to the bathroom, I couldn't find one downstairs so I thought there might be one up here."

"Did you find it?"

"Yeah, just down the hall." Dean nods his head in that direction. "So, did you, uh, get the book then?" He asks, gesturing to the contents in my hands.

"Mmhmm," I nod in reply, my leg still tucked awkwardly under me as I sit on the bed.

"Do you mind if I…"

"Oh, yes, of course." I say, clearly over thinking everything, and Dean ambles over, perching himself on the edge of the bed. His face is dry of tears, maybe for the first time this… morning? Afternoon? Evening? What even is the time? How long has Dean been here, blissfully in my wake, the two of us distracting each other from the melodramatic torture our families have to offer?

"So what's Gabriel been doing today? Sam didn't say much, just emphasised that you were alone. Don't know what was up with him."

"Oh, he needed to catch up on some school work and his doctor said it would be okay if he went in for the afternoon to have some private tutoring with a teacher, I don't know, the school offered it and Gabe seemed keen to get out of the house. That kid has too much energy."

"Tell me about it," Dean sighs sarcastically, clearly referring to his own brother.

"So do you want to read it up here?" I ask, trying my best not to act like I'm implying anything, because I'm really not, I just prefer it in my room. And there's better lighting.

Dean shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, "Yeah, sure," and spins around to face me, pulling his legs crossed. He messes with his hands, and I realise he's discarded his hoodie and jacket somewhere downstairs, now wearing nothing more than a plaid button up shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows that put his bulging arms on show.

"Okay, should I...?" I give Dean a questioning look, and he nods, giving me permission to begin. I lean back against the wall, relaxing into it, and open the book at the first page.

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort."

I've been craving a glass of water for the last hour or so, and the dryness of my mouth causes the words to come out in some sort of a growl, forcing me to acknowledge the part of myself that craves a fresh drink. However, be it fortunately, or unfortunately, a larger part of me craves Dean's smile, the one that shows I've done something right. I'm not going to stop now, not when I've just begun.

"It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green," _But not as green as your eyes. _"With a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke…"

I read for hours.

At some point the duvet gets shoved down to the end of the bed, and he finds his way to the top, next to me.

At some point he rests his chin on my shoulder, attempting to read the words as I speak them.

At some point he gives up, and lies silently on the mattress.

And at some point Dean closes his eyes, and doesn't open them, even when I put The Hobbit away.

_This,_ I tell myself,_ is the closest I will ever come to sleeping with Dean Winchester._


	23. Chapter 23

**Cas' POV**

My eyes strike open with the slam of the door.

"Fuck," I hear a voice, Gabriel's, from the other side. "actually _fuck_." I can't distinguish if he's speaking out of pain or disbelief.

"Gabe?!" I shout to be heard through the wall between us.

"Woah, what the hell?" A figure beside me bolts upright, jolted by my yelling.

"What in the-" A moment of realisation. "_Ah_."

He raises his eyebrows.

"I, uh." I barely manage to stammer through the things I'm trying to say, "I think my brother might be confused."

Dean rubs his eyes, clearly already fairly alert given the sharpness of his waking. He glances to the door, acknowledging the situation, and then looks back to me. His eyes scatter all over my face, and a somewhat mischievous look overcomes him. Dean bites his lip, and then leans in, kissing me quickly on the cheek. I don't have time to react before he's looked away from me, and focused his attention on Gabe.

"Gabriel, you can come in, you know." He demands. "No, no, I'm really alright, thanks."

"Just get inside and stop being such a wuss." Given the threat to his reputation Gabe peeks through a crack in the door, and, as if deciding the cost is clear, enters the rest of the way.

"I mean, I saw it coming, but I didn't actually _see it coming_."

My face flushes automatically, and Dean's does to, his sharp cheeks lighting the room.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, trying to appear curious, and nothing else.

"Come on, man." He groans at me. "The guy's literally in your bed."

"I- I was reading to him. We both fell asleep."

"What kind of freaking 18 year olds read to each other?" He complains, raising his eyebrows as if pitying us for even trying to explain.

"It's a long story." I glare in retort.

"Well I've got the whole day ahead of me, brothermine."

I grunt. "Get out of my room, Gabriel." And he holds his hands up in defence as he slowly backs out of the door.

Amidst all the thoughts slamming through my head, I hear Dean knock his head against the bed frame in defeat. "Friggin' late for for work again. I'm definitely getting fired this time."

I ignore Dean's comment, and listen to Gabe's footsteps until I'm certain that he's out of earshot, I then open my mouth to the person sitting strewn atop the covers next to me. "What was that?" I hiss at Dean.

"What was what? Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry, Cas, I just thought-"

"You kissed me." He kissed me.

"Only on the cheek, handsome, don't get too excited now." Dean gives me an arrogant look, but something about it seems... broken.

"How dare you?" I bite. "You think you can just come here, sleep in my bed, and then kiss me like it's nothing?"

"It wasn't just nothing-"

"Then what was it? What are we, Dean?" Without warning I'm rushed with this hunger, greed, to know.

"Friends?" Does he think this is a joke? With his eyes hard and jaw clenched I'm struggling to draw any clear emotion out of him. I jump off of the bed, and he rolls over to the side I was sleeping on, waiting a moment before standing up too and making certain that we're both facing each other.

"No. No we're not. Don't lie to me." I snarl at him. I hate liars; I despise them. God only knows why I'm so drawn to them.

"Then you tell me what we are," He bites back. 'what we are to each other... because I'm whatever you want, and you know that. Goddammit, what are you waiting for me to be? Because I sure as hell haven't got a clue. What do you want, Cas?" What do I want? We could be here for hours reciting the different scenarios I spend my nights praying to retry.

"I- I want you to be honest." I whisper.

"Bullshit." His reply is the same volume as my own. It's as if the whole room around us has dropped, ostracizing us alone on tip of an active volcano, ready to rupture.

"So what do you think I want, then?" Other than a normal family, an alternate lifestyle, and an entirely different past? If only I fucking knew. There's a part of me that would be grateful if he gave a decent answer. I could use one.

"I wish I had a clue." Just my luck.

"Then- What do you want, Dean?"

"I think you know." I don't, I really don't and he's going to have to say a heck of a lot more than

that if he wants to satisfy me now.

I shake my head, and he stays unspeaking, his lips pursed and his eyes trained on me.

The silence - it's abhorrent; I can't take it any more. "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" The peek we've been so precariously placed on detonates; I slam him against the wall.

Gripping the flannel shirt covering his shoulders, I shake him. I twist the fabric in my clenched fists until my knuckles turn white, and pull him those few inches down until our faces are level. To say that his eyes were green would be to say the night sky was black: true, but not accurate enough to capture the extent of the colossal void it drowned you in. And I'm sure as hell drowning.

His voice is no more than a hushed murmur, and he breathes his words. "Cas, baby," he smiles, soft and self-deprecatingly, "I just want you." He lifts his head up, his whole body resting against the wall.

"What does that mean?" I can't think anymore. I can't.

He grins at me, flashing those teeth he so rarely shows. "Can't take a hint, can you?"

I shake my head again, the confusion overwhelming.

"Look at me, you asshole." I'm stunned for a moment, until I remember it's just Dean, and this is what he does. I lift my head slowly, and he raises my chin with the tip of his finger as if to help.

"No!" I smack his hand away. "Don't do this to me! Stop acting like you care when you'll just ditch me when you're done, don't..."

"Jesus fucking Christ Cas! Who do you think I am? What do you think I am? You reckon that because I wear a leather jacket and listen to crappy rock music I'm some annoying, cheating, dick? We're 18 for fuck's sake, and if you're still judging people on that kind of shit then how the hell do you expect to get through life? Have you ever even considered that maybe I like you? Maybe I want to be with you and I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks. But what would I know about love, right? I don't know jack shit, that's what. But I know you're different... I know that I'm falling hard and I'm terrified I'm never going to get back up-"

Forgive me lord for I am about to sin. I crash my mouth into his.

Something about those first few seconds is beautiful, all the taste that can come from just his lips. And then he shoves me off him, and my arms are momentarily free of the tension in them, the stiffness of my weak muscles that held him against the wall. I stumble a couple of steps backwards, leaving Dean to take control. He moves that one step forward, until we're no more than a inch away, and stares at me. He stares right into my eyes as he grasps at my neck and the edges of my face and kisses me back. This time it's not so elegant.

He's all strength, quickly placing his rough hands on the sides of my shoulders. As I start to feel him pulling me up off the floor I react quickly, pushing up ever so slightly at what feels like perfect timing, and with lack of anything but this want, I wrap my legs around his waist, straddling him as he stays planted on his feet. I hold my upper body straight as he grabs my thighs, squeezing them and pulling me tighter. I don't even realise I'm grinning until Dean beams back up at me, and I tilt my head down, down, down to his; my only thought to get there faster. He nudges his head up, and we both go in for it at the same time, the result hot and heavy. Dean moans and the noise echoes around us.

"How often do you practice this shit?" He mutters against my mouth, already losing his breath.

"Other than that one time with Meg? Which, I'll have you know, I was too wasted to remember." I halt my words to stick my tongue down his throat and he groans again, biting and tugging at my bottom lip. "So other than that? Not since I was," His own tongue fights back, "16. Oh jesus Dean."

He walks backwards slowly, trying to focus on moving and kissing and not dropping me all at once. He loses his footing for a second, then regains it, and we stop to laugh, my forehead against his and our noses touching as we breathe against each other.

It's only short-lasted, though, and I lace my hands around his neck as he leans his head up towards me again.

"You lying sonsofbitches." A voice states from the corner of the room.


	24. Chapter 24

**Cas' POV**

I rub my hands together briskly, regretting leaving my gloves at home and my trenchcoat at Kevin's. The cold seeps into my skin. Blowing onto my cracked fingers, I glance at the ice that freezes over tires, old food packets, and broken pieces of metal that were once a part of something great. The towers of trash surround me, and I feel like royalty when I compare my life with the slums that people find themselves trapped in.

I try to ignore the looks I get from people who have made fewer mistakes than those who are rich, but are named guilty for lack of community. I live in poverty, and they live in injustice. Yet they say my father is here.

"Castiel." A melody materializes from behind me, the last syllable of my name spoken in a sing-song voice.

I turn to see a short man in front of me, he looks in his 50's, with a white scruff of stubble curling outwards. He's kept warm by a tight navy hat, and from the tangles protruding from the back of his head, I can tell his hair is past unkept. Layers of jumpers surround his circular body, and I'm close to envious of the thick green coat that he's wearing, creating a wall between himself and the surrounding cold.

When our eyes meet, he smiles, and it's so sly, it could almost be described as sadistic. When his grin widens his teeth come on to show, and the yellow, crooked rocks only help with the image of him ripping the throats of little children - one that's rapidly forming in my head.

I don't return the smile.

"Metatron?" I ask, making the reluctant decision to reach out and shake his hand. It's coated in a layer of sweat, despite the numbing coldness of his palm beneath.

"Please," He answers, "Call me Marv."

"Okay." Metatron - Marv? - doesn't move. He stands there, fixed in position, with that grim smile plastered to his unclean face.

"I'm sorry your mother couldn't make it." He speaks at last, raising a pair of bushy, heightened eyebrows.

"Yeah, me too." Silence. "So, is he, um…" I start.

"Here?" I nod. "Yes, yes he is. Would you like me to introduce you to your undead father?" He tilts his head to the side as he says it, that ill-fitting grin making its grand re appearance, like it's some sort of sick joke.

As if remembering the icy conditions that surround me, I bring my hands to my face. Curling them around each other, I breathe into the hollow space created, and then rub my palms together, hard, gradually becoming satisfied with the amount of heat that I've created.

"That would be wonderful." I growl. Until an hour ago, I was in a good mood. A great mood. And now I have an undying urge to punch anyone who steps anymore than two inches from how I've planned this little event to go: I meet, I talk, I leave, I go home, I feel like shit because my dad's still dead, and then I have hot, angry sex with Dean Winchester.

According to Gabe, my emotions are somewhat unstable.

He leads me to an open area, where a hundred or so people are spread out across the large expanse of concrete, wandering around or resting under their self sufficient shelters. A few of them flicker their eyes at me. Immediately, they glance back to whatever they were doing before my out of place appearance interrupted them. A painfully slim women with thin blonde hair glours at me.

"Is that the boy?" She hisses at Marv.

"Yes."

"Well he's late!" Her eyes bulge as they devour my appearance once more, and I do everything I can to not look back.

"Not my problem." He retorts, and I feel myself being shoved towards to woman. Watching Marv leave, I make the unregrettable decision to get this whole thing over and done with as soon as possible.

"Where is he?" I ask her. She walks away, unanswering, leaving me to follow.

Eventually we reach a door.

I don't take in the details much, everything around me is all such a tangle, my head is screaming at me to go back, retrace my steps. Something isn't right. I'm sure of it. My dad would never do this, it's so unlike him, so unreal… He wouldn't spend all this time bringing me to him when he knew exactly where I was; where mum was.

All I have is this sick feeling that if this isn't dad, whoever's behind this lie must be doing it for a reason. Look at all the people involved in this - it's so much more than some perverse joke.

I'm daunted by their motives, I'm terrified. It's unfortunate that the fear of my own cowardice is even bigger.

I block out the sound at we walk through another doorway, pacing down a roofless hall as I force the noise away until even the crunch of ice beneath my feet is rendered silent to my ears.

It's a sort of freedom.

I'm humming a tune under my breathe, at first I don't know what, just a guitar riff looping itself over and over. And then a vibration echoes around my head. Lyrics. I don't know them all that well, just a single line, actually.

_Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight. _

What in the hell? I swear that's… Metallica? Of all things. I'd only heard that song a couple of times when dad played it, it's how I know the lyrics, but how is it stuck in my head now?

_I'm comforted by my surroundings: the grey box-like tv, a bundle of DVDs that had been collected over time, that crack in the mirror from when Gabe slammed me against it in a fight. He's stronger than he looks! I'd complained to a disgruntled father._

_ I look down again, stupefied by Dean, curled against me, breathing a tune against my stomach. "Wait, I recognise that song." I muse. "What is it?"_

_"Enter Sandman." says Dean, "Metallica… It calms me- never mind."_

_His breath is warm and the tune is soft. "I like it." I reply, with a painless smile, praying that he doesn't catch it._

_I look back at the mirror that now leans against the wall, only reflecting Dean's knees and below. His jeans are ripped at the bottom. _

_And I think I can see something, a minute movement... as a foot taps ever so discreetly, in time to the beat._

The woman's leaning in a corner. She scares me, this whole 'not speaking' thing. Who knows, despite having only heard her say a few mere phrases, I think perhaps her voice would scare me more than the lack of it. Cracked, high-pitched, and scattered - I don't have to imagine it.

I like to think I could take her on in a fight. I also like to think I won't have to.

Scanning the floor, I halt, standing still until she carries on walking.

"What you waiting for then?" She asks, eyes gawking, and showing no intention of leaving her place. I wonder, are we already here?

"Leave him be," Says a man's voice. "I'm sure all he wants is a little re-introduction." I glance upwards at him. At my father. I feel a stab in my stomach, and a gun fire in my head.

A warning shot.

I open my mouth but a cord has been pulled, cracking my vocal chords. All I see is the smoke-like breathe, fuming from my lips, and I forget to breathe back in.

"You're not my dad." I murmur.

And I crash into a sprint, as a second echoing gunshot signals the start of a one-man race.


	25. Chapter 25

**Cas' POV**

He doesn't follow me, a swift look behind my shoulder confirms that, but he's watching.

Marv's eyes train on me, expressionless, as I stumble out of the area, my pounding feet gradually grinding to a halt once I hit solid pavement next to an empty road. The sidewalk slowly disappears, and I bend down to breathe for a second, begging to rip off the hot clothes I had so recently wanted to layer up.

I jog along the slim pathway of grass beside the gravel, until I see lights, radiating from the town I travelled here through.

The bus journey is long; by the time I'm home the sky is dark and my lids are heavy. Yet, as I stand outside my door, unthinking as I corrected the slanted knocker, I know that I don't want to go in.

I can't see Gabriel, I can't look him in the eye and tell him that I saw someone. _Someone_. That I saw a man, with the features of our father, but… wrong. He wasn't. He wasn't our dad or maybe he was but he's not the man that walked out on us. I don't know who he is, but that man is _not our father._

The walk to Dean's house is a long one.

I hear talking, shouting, then a thud. A few seconds later and the door swings open, a tall, unravelled Dean holding it open. His eyes grow wide when he sees me, and he gulps.

Dean waits for me to say something, but I don't. He raises his eyebrows, and a look of disgust overcomes him.

"The fuck do you want?" He snaps, loud and clear.

I feel myself flinch, like a moth attracted to a light, only to discover the light is a bug zapper and suddenly, well, _zap_. A single volt of electricity ricochets throughout my entire body and that's all it takes.

"Dean, I-"

"WHO'S AT THE DOOR?" A man's voice shouts, vicious and unsteady, from within the house.

Dean looks me up and down. "Just some punk kid," he calls back, with barely a moment's hesitation.

"Go away." He speaks again, but his eyes say otherwise.

"Why, Dean who is that?"

"WHAT DOES HE WANT?" The voice bellows again.

"GIVE ME A MINUTE." Dean replies, trying to hide his panic. Then he whispers to me, attempting to mask his impatience.

"Look, Cas I'm sorry- my dad's home, please, you have to leave now."

"But-" Dean cuts me off. He glances behind him to make certain his dad is out of sight and earshot, and grabs my hand. Dean tugs me along with him, stepping outside and pulling my frame away from the doorway.

He kisses me. Hard. "You never fucking shut up."

I feel my face pulling into a cocky smirk, and I bite my cheek at the arrogance of it. "I'll see you at school?" I ask.

"Hell yeah you'll see me at school." And he shoves me in the direction of my house.

**Dean's POV**

I slam the door, then lean my back against it, smiling to myself before I go back to my dad. I'm sure a tinge of the grin is still smudged across my face, just from the way Sammy looks at me.

He raises his eyebrows, and I slap the back of his back as I walk past.

"Who was that?" Dad asks, though I'm not sure why he cares.

"Girl scouts," I joke, and he nods his head, smiling pitifully at what seemed like a poor joke. He doesn't say any more.

"So," Sam breaks the silence. "John winchester's back in town - what's the occasion?"

"Sammy," I groan, praying to avoid another fight. Sam and Dad blasting it out at each other is starting to become a family tradition.

"Last time I checked, I don't need a reason to see my own children." Dad's voice rises slightly, already growing angry.

"So… credit card trouble?" Sam accuses, purposely nagging at John's sore spots.

"You'd better start showing me some respect, son." He snarls. "I put food on your table and a roof over your head, as long as you're alive, you should be thanking me for keeping you that way."

Sam's mind is winding like clockwork, clicking and ticking and turning as he searches for the perfect snarky reply.

"Dad," I interrupt, and the tension between the two of them snaps. "Would you like a drink?"

He beams at me, teeth not quite glistening, and it's so undoubtedly obvious that the show of affection is just an attempt to piss off Sammy, to make him jealous. I'm not proud of either of them.

"Thank you, Dean." He nods curtly, "A coffee would be fantastic."

"Only because you need to sober up all the freaking time." Sam mutters, quietly enough that John doesn't hear.

"Don't start anything, Sammy. You hear me?" I nudge him.

"Sure," He responds.

I face my father again. "Milk?"

"Do I look like a pussy?" He reasons.

"No sir," I march out of the room.

I stare at the kettle placed on the hob, and the flame that flickers underneath it. My thoughts drift away as my pupils fix their gaze.

_The fire multiplies steadily, a little more light and energy creating itself every few seconds. 1, 2, 3, fire. 1, 2, 3, fire. 1, 2, 3,... the pattern stops, and it's jumping high, ducking low, throwing itself everywhere. It's out of control. I try to throw a cloth over it, but the material is soon alight and the fire is still flourishing and spreading, cornering me, but into the center of the room. I breathe in the smoke that burns my lungs, and my eyes start stinging as the smoke turns to tear gas. I hear shouting, and I pray that the fire hasn't reached Sam. I pray that my blood-curdling screams have woken him from his stupor fast enough that he can escape._

I blink. The water's boiled.

Shaking my head, I encourage the riddance of the fading images. I stir the coffee rapidly, then slam my fist on the kitchen counter. I can still hear the shouting. I can still hear Sam's screams as the flames engulf him.

I grab the kettle's handle, and slowly tip it until there's a steady stream trickling onto the wooden floor. I prep my hand to flash through it, just enough to jolt my brain back into business.

Sam and Dad. Sam and John. All of a sudden I realise I'm not insane. The voices did stop, the daydream was no more than a daydream - Sam and Dad are just fighting.

My legs stride into the front room, they would have started running if it was any more that three metres from the kitchen.

"I am SICK of your attitude towards me. I'm your father, and I am entitled to your upmost respect! Look at everything I do for you, and _what do I get in return_?" Dad yells at my giant of a brother, as the the two of them remain completely oblivious to what I thought was a rather dramatic entrance by myself.

"Oh will you shut up, you can't even get a fucking job. Scamming credit card companies to get enough money for a bowl of soup a day isn't providing! You're just digging us deeper and deeper until _you_ get arrested, and then Dean has to live on his own whilst I get adopted by some couple who want to dress me up all nice for Church and play card games every Saturday night!" Sammy's looking for a big one tonight.

"Well that sounds like a real nightmare for you, doesn't it." John remarks.

I walk up behind Sam, and tug at the neck of his shirt. "Cut it out."

"What about dad? You ever gonna tell _him_ to 'cut it out'?"

"Just give it a rest, Sammy." I sigh.

"No! I don't understand the blind faith you have in the man. I mean, it's like you don't even question him!"

"He's doing what he can," I state. I then look towards my dad, who's head is bobbing in approval at my words.

_He's doing what he can._ It's a lie, but it's a lie that will help keep the peace. John may not be the perfect father, but Sam needs to understand him better. He doesn't get that even if he didn't know Mum… we did. It did things to dad. It's not his fault.

"Screw this anyway," Dad splutters, his show of devotion faltering. "We're leaving. I'm fed up with this shithole of a town, I deserve better than this."

John Winchester has an unordinary concept of brutality. If I were to punch him, square in the jaw, he would take it less personally than what I'm about to do.

I laugh. I don't know why, but I laugh at him.


End file.
